Is is just Me?
by Crysta1
Summary: Attention all personell!Finale officially up and it's curtains for this fic.Goodbye, farewell, amen*blows a kiss&steps off the podium* ~H/M~What happens when yur life gets lived out to the tune of a song? A song of true feelings through secrets??hmmm.
1. Is It Just Me

It was about 2:00 am. Hawkeye had just finally settled down into bed. It was a sweltering July night, and the opened windows did little except to circulate more muggy air.  
  
Suddenly, a sharp ring of the telephone cut like a knife through the dense air. He picked up the phone as quickly as he could, hoping the noise hadn't woken his father.  
  
"Hello?" he asked groggily.  
  
"Oh, Hawkeye, I'm so sorry. Did I wake you up?" The voice of Margaret Houlihan on the other end of the line snapped him awake instantly.  
  
They were the closest of friends. The only time they had really ever romanced had been so rarely in Korea, though Hawkeye, being Hawkeye, teased her about it often.  
  
Something else that should also be cleared up was the very distinct difference between Major and Margaret. Margaret was a fun loving, freethinking soul as long as she was out of uniform. But either way she was stubborn and independent. So it was clear to Hawkeye that this was an absolute emergency for her to be calling him this late.  
  
"What's wrong Margaret?" he asked, genuinely concerned. "Steve?" Her boyfriend had been giving Margaret a lot of trouble lately and Hawkeye suspected it was more then she was telling him.  
  
"Yeah," she choked out, and Hawkeye instantly knew she was crying.  
  
"I'll be right over."  
  
"Oh, Hawkeye, no. It can wait until morning—"  
  
Hawkeye cut in. "It is morning. I'll be there in a minute." Then he hung up the phone, leaving no room for argument.  
  
He rolled out of bed and pulled on shorts and a tee shirt. He hurriedly ran his fingers through his hair, which incidently had stopped graying once he had returned home from Korea. Big surprise, he often thought as he looked into the mirror.  
  
Hastily scribbling a note to his father telling him where he was, he grabbed the keys and headed out the door.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
Margaret placed down the receiver, and began to pace around her tiny home. She wouldn't have been here at all if it wasn't for Hawkeye. She didn't mean that in a bad way, she told herself, it was just that he was the one who wrote her while she was still at the 8063rd and told her about a fantastic new nursing position that had recently opened up at the hospital he worked at. It was the perfect job, and she had accepted.  
  
She sighed as she thought of how different her life was than she had expected it to be. She had the career of her dreams, but her social life was a nightmare. Her thoughts were interrupted by the opening of the front door. Hawkeye rushed in, not bothering to knock. He swooped over to the couch where she was and enveloped her in his arms. She loved the way those arms made her feel safe; oceans of relief swept over her mind.  
  
"Ok, now what happened?" Hawkeye asked when Margaret had finally disentangled herself from his arms. They were still close, but far enough away where she could look into his piercing blue eyes.  
  
She took a deep breath. "Steve wants me to end the relationship between us. He says you get too close for comfort. His comfort, that is." She stopped, looking at the way Hawkeye's eyes were now twinkling. He had an odd sort of smile on his face, as though he had a very good wisecrack on the tip of his tongue, but was holding it back for her sake. She frowned at him. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"  
  
"Not at all. I was just wondering how it would be possible for him to believe that about us. And how unbelievably sexy you look when you're distressed." He finally allowed the smile to spread across his face. Margaret let out an enormous groan. "Must you always have a comeback for everything I say?"  
  
Hawkeye shrugged. "I can't help it if my brain moves in faster circles than most people."  
  
"Ah-ha. So that's why you have such a dizzying intellect."  
  
"Oh bravo. Now who's the one with the snappy comebacks?"  
  
Margaret smiled through her tears. "It's amazing how you always make me feel so much better."  
  
Hawkeye raised his eyebrows. "I haven't even started yet. Turn around."  
  
Margaret gave him a perplexed look, but complied. Hawkeye gently grasped her shoulders, and began to work out the tight knots of stress that had woven themselves into her muscles. "Ok. Tell me everything."  
  
"That's it."  
  
What's it?" Hawkeye asked.  
  
"All my thoughts. I've told you everything I know. No secrets."  
  
"Good. How do you feel?"  
  
"Better. Relaxed."  
  
"My surgeon's hands haven't completely lost their touch."  
  
Margaret smiled. Hawkeye turned around to face him again. He came nearer to her face with his lips slightly puckered.  
  
"No, Hawkeye," she said, almost reluctantly, she realized, though she refused to admit it. She shoved him a forceful shove away.  
  
"You know," he frowned, slightly hurt, "I am capable of giving you a kiss as a friend. Not the preferable way, mind you, but doable."  
  
"Oh." She relaxed, and he pulled her close again, planting a gentle kiss on her forehead, and then one on her nose. " No lower buster," she mumbled only half jokingly. He pulled away from her nose and grinned. "You know, you have a great nose. Goes along with a great—OW!!" he exclaimed as Margaret smacked him smartly on the arm. He grinned lopsidedly, and Margaret could see the idea that pooped into his head. "What??" she asked.  
  
"Get up."  
  
"Pardon?"  
  
"You'll see…" Hawkeye replied. He grabbed her hands and pulled her to her feet. He lead her out the door and into the blue Chevy. With a jolt, it started up, and he backed out of Margaret's driveway and down the road, all the while a mischievous grin on his face.  
  
"Hawkeye!!!" Margaret whined playfully. "Just tell me where we're going!!!"  
  
"Nope. You'll see when we get there." He took a number of twists and turns along the back roads of Maine, most of which she had never seen before.  
  
By now she had given up bantering, and took to watching the scenery of the world still in peaceful slumber. At last, Hawkeye pulled into a small abandoned lot.  
  
"We'll have to run if we're going to get there in time." He grinned boyishly.  
  
"Get WHERE!!!!"  
  
"Have you ever seen the sun rise on the beach?" he asked. Margaret shook her head. "Well, you're not going to if you don't HURRY!!" he scolded playfully. He grabbed Margaret's hand and pulled. "Come on!!"  
  
They jogged for awhile, but Margaret was more tired than usual, and soon slowed.  
  
"Hurry up!" he called behind him. He did a sort of jump and began to gallop backwards, showing off like a proud peacock. Margaret tried to laugh, but it came out as a harsh rasp. Hawkeye heard it, and raced over. "Margaret, are you ok? You look horrible!"  
  
"Flatterer. I don't deal well with humidity. Rapid pulse, queasiness, the whole nine yards." Margaret responded. Hawkeye took her wrist and felt for a pulse.  
  
"You're not kidding. I can't have you exert yourself anymore right now. Climb on." He turned around and bent down.  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"Climb onto my back. I'll carry you the rest of the way."  
  
Margaret laughed sarcastically and shook her finger at him. "I don't think so!! I know you too well. Your hand will start to creep."  
  
"I haven't done that since Korea."  
  
"Swear it."  
  
"Boy Scout's Honor."  
  
"You're not a scout."  
  
"My word as a gentleman," Hawkeye tried.  
  
She raised an eyebrow. "That don't count for much either."  
  
Hawkeye groaned. "My word as your friend??"  
  
"Now that's something I'd lay money on." She climbed onto his back, and he shakily stood up. Then he began to jog, though slower than before.  
  
Finally, Hawkeye set her down on a cliff top overlooking the ocean. The tide was in, and the waves crashed violently against the right side of the cliff. Suddenly, the tip of a glowing globe appeared where the ocean met the sky. The water turned to liquid gold.  
  
Hawkeye silently observed Margaret's reaction. Her eyes went wide and her mouth dropped in awe. "It's so beautiful," she breathed.  
  
"It sure is," he replied, not looking at the water. The sun reflected off her blonde hair, making it shine brighter and more beautiful than usual. Margaret glanced over at him with a slightly-less-than-amused look. "Hawkeye," she warned.  
  
"Hmmmm??" he asked innocently, absentmindedly running his fingers through his hair with a flair he had perfected long ago.  
  
"We should get going."  
  
"Awwww, Margaret, have a heart! I haven't shown you the best part yet!"  
  
"Ok, show me. I'm all eyes."  
  
"You most certainly are not! I know, I've looked."  
  
"Pervert."  
  
He smiled. They both stood up, shaking the gravel from their legs.  
  
"Which way?" Margaret asked.  
  
"This way," he replied, pointing towards the right end of the cliff, where the worst of the waves crashed.  
  
"You can't be serious!" she shrieked, her eyes widening.  
  
The corner of Hawkeye's mouth twitched. "Of course I'm kidding. You should know me better than that. I would never make you jump into such violent water." He paused. "We'll go down this way." And with that, he gave her a small shove off the left side of the cliff.  
  
"Hawwwkkkkkeeeeyyyeeeee!!!" she screamed as she fell. He jumped behind her, cackling mad as a hyena as he went.  
  
When she finally surfaced, he was floating on his back a few feet away.  
  
"You… you idiot!!" she splat, splashing him violently.  
  
"Awwww, Margaret. I was hoping you would be unconscious so I could try some CPR." He pouted in mock disappointment.  
  
"And play doctor with me later, I suppose?"  
  
"Margaret, you could read me like a book. Care to try in brail??"  
  
"Incorrigible. Will you just show me whatever it is you were going to show me?"  
  
"Follow me." Hawkeye turned around and started to swim in a back sit paddle. Margaret swam beside him in a similar fashion. He lead them to a small hole in the Cliffside. "Watch your head!!" he called behind him.  
  
"What about your claustrophobia?" Margaret inquired.  
  
"Never hit home in here. I've been coming here for longer than I can remember, so I guess it just never registered."  
  
"Oh."  
  
After swimming along the watery corridor for a few minutes, she heard his voice a few feet ahead. "Turn around so your feet are in front."  
  
"Why?"she called in response.  
  
"Water slide!!" She heard him call, right before a boyish shriek pierced the air.  
  
"Pierce, I'll get you for this," she grumbled as she edged her way along, her feet searching for a sudden dip in the path. When she found it, she shimmied gently to a stop. "At least I have something under me this time," she told herself bravely before she shoved herself off.  
  
The shriek ensured Hawkeye that she was on her way. A moment later she splashed into the almost pitch black pool where he had been waiting.  
  
"P-Pierce you moron!! I have a mind to—" she paused and licked her lips. "Hey, this water is fresh."  
  
"Yep. It's an undersea cavern. Holds rainwater. And you haven't even seen the best part yet!!"  
  
She heard a scrambling, scratching sound noise and knew they were near some sort of land. As her eyes adjusted to the inky blackness she could make out a tall dark figure scrambling up the stair like structure etched into the cavern wall. "Careful," she warned, resuming a Major-like authority. She gave her small sort of smile as she heard him give an exasperated groan.  
  
When he reached the top, he fumbled with something for a minute, and then a flashlight click on.  
  
"All that work for a flashlight??" Margaret called up to him, but he was busy adjusting the light and ignored her. In a moment, the beam hit just the right place, and instantly Margaret understood why he had gone all the way up there. The single ray hit a crystal and prismed off from there, it's light hitting a thousand crystals along the way. She hadn't noticed them before. It had been too dark to tell. But now they gleamed and sparkled like icicles. Some of them probably were too. The water was clean and clear, and the water was a direct reflection of the ceiling. Rainbow light flecked off the walls. Hawkeye slid back down and into the waters.  
  
"It's like we're swimming in diamonds," she whispered in awe. Hawkeye nodded, for once without a wisecrack.  
  
"I used to come here as a kid to think when things were a little tense at home. It's my secret place. No one else knows about it but me, and I think my mom knew too, but she never told anyone outright. She never told me either, but left subtle hints, and I found it. The day after she died, actually."  
  
"Oh, Hawkeye, I'm so sorry."  
  
"Nah, don't worry about it. We're here to have fun, remember? Today we deal with your problems. We'll worry about mine another day." That was just like Hawkeye. He was always willing to do anything to help someone else, but his own problems were put off until forever away.  
  
"Ok, Hawkeye. I won't spill the beans either."  
  
Soon, though she tried to hide it, Margaret began to shiver. She hoped he didn't notice, and remained in that ignorance until he commented, "I felt that one from over here!" after one of her tremors. "Come on, let's go warm you up."  
  
From across the cave, Margaret glanced at him. "Hmmm. Is this going to involve a sudden drop?"  
  
A booming laugh resonated off the walls. "No, I promise no more falling today. Just go up the stair things. There's a door that will lead us out."  
  
So carefully, the shivering masses of giggles made their way up and out. Hawkeye gave a small shove to one of the rocks and it moved, revealing the sun again.  
  
They both blinked against it's bright light and stepped out.  
  
When her eyes had finally adjusted, Margaret was greeted with a postcard quality scene. A lagoon, secluded by lush green foliage with a small miniature beach was not the sort of thing she had expected from Hawkeye. Then again, she hadn't expected the Cavern either. She shook her head, and muttered "You're too much."  
  
Hawkeye hadn't heard her. He was busy arranging blankets and pillows produced from an old trunk ,shielded from the elements, into a bedlike structure.  
  
"And now, Mizz Margaret," Hawkeye said in his southern drawl, bowing with flourish, "We at Hawkeye's Hotel and Motorpool present our best." He marched over and swept her up into his arms again.  
  
"Hey!" she squeaked, struggling to get away. "Hawkeye, I'm not an invalid!!"  
  
"But today you're going to be treated like one. You've been through a lot. You get the special treatment." With that he lay her down into the makeshift bed gently and covered her with a blanket. "Sleep," he ordered.  
  
"But Hawkeye," she trailed, sitting up, only to be pushed firmly down into the pillows again.  
  
"No buts, Margaret. You need to rest. How much sleep have you gotten over the last few weeks?"  
  
She sighed, but obediently closed her eyes and soon drifted off.  
  
Hawkeye gazed at her sleeping frame for awhile, before he peeled off his dripping clothes and hit the much warmer lagoon water in his jockey shorts. The sun had warmed the top of the water, so he floated on his back and thought. He thought about the war, about the peace, and about Margaret.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
At about that time, it was seven in the morning at Mill Valley. BJ stretched and rolled over, gazing nose to nose at his wife's sleeping form. Gently, he ran his index finger from the middle of her forehead down to the tip of her nose. She moaned softly, and chocolate brown eyes blinked open at him. He pulled her to him and planted gentle kisses on her lips.  
  
"Good morning to you too!" she mumbled. "What brought this on?"  
  
"I was just thinking about how long I was away from you and how much time we have to make up for."  
  
"MMmmmmmm. But why today?"  
  
"It's been exactly a year since I came home. I realized that and it triggered some memories."  
  
"Hmmm… like your welcoming committee?"  
  
"You mean the entire city gathered in our house?"  
  
"Noo," she replied, rolling part way on top of him. "I mean me."  
  
"Ohh- ho," he chuckled, touching her hair gently. "That welcoming party.Funny, it seems sort of hazy in my mind."  
  
"Maybe I should refresh your memory?"  
  
"Well, now that you mention it…"  
  
"Daddy?" an uncertain voice called.  
  
The two united love birds sprang apart and looked at their small daughter standing in the doorway, holding Bunny and Blankie and trying to suck her thumb at the same time.  
  
"What is it honey?" he answered, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. It still amazed him every time she said that, considering he was a stranger when he first came home. She hadn't taken to kindly to him then. But she had come around when she had received her first bath from daddy, along with her first shoulder back ride. Still, every time she said that word, it was a small gem tucked away in his heart.  
  
"Wake up time?"  
  
"Almost sweetie. How come you're up so early anyway?"  
  
"I missed you. And I had bad icky dream that you went away and never came back."  
  
"Honey, I would never leave you."  
  
Her trust in him was almost overwhelming. "Ok Daddy. But I'm still lonely. Can'I come in with you?"  
  
"Of course honey!!"  
  
Delighted at the invitation, Erin bounced up onto the bed and onto BJ's stomach. He picked her up and laughed as she wriggled and shrieked with delight. He sighed contentedly. It had taken him months, but he finally felt like he was home.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
"Yikes!" Margaret, who had just woken up, was surprised to find when she rolled over to find Hawkeye lying on his side , propped up by one elbow, looking at her.  
  
"What?" she inquired, smiling slightly.  
  
"I love watching you sleep. You look so innocent, like a little girl. It's nice to see that look on your face every once in a while."  
  
Margaret didn't say anything, but furrowed her brow. It wasn't like him to spurt out with something poetic like that.  
  
"We should get going. I have a shift at the hospital at four, and it's two already, so…"  
  
Margaret sat bolt upright. "2? I need to go too."  
  
Hawkeye frowned. "Why the rush??"  
  
"I have a bone to pick with someone before one of mine gets broken."  
  
"What… you mean Steve?"  
  
Margaret nodded grimly.  
  
"But I need to be there!" Hawkeye insisted.  
  
"Hawkeye, I will handle this. I'm a big girl now," she replied, drawing herself up to her majorly stance.  
  
"Ok," he relented. "But f things get rough, call me."  
  
"Hawkeye!" she said half jokingly. "What has gotten into you lately?"  
  
He looked up at her strangely. "What do you mean?"  
  
She stood up slowly, her legs stiff from all the swimming she had done. "I don't know. You seem mellow. Distant."  
  
He glanced at his watch again. "Oops. Ok, we'll talk later."  
  
"I suppose I hafta rub your back too?"  
  
For a brief shining moment, Hawkeye looked like himself, evil grin on his face. "Oooo goody. What else are you offering?"  
  
Margaret sighed and rolled her eyes. She grabbed Hawkeye's hands and pulled him up, bringing her hands all the way up to her chest with the effort. Hawkeye stared at his imprisoned hand, so close to the danger zone for a minute, with a look very difficult to describe on his face. He was frowning, looking horrified, worried, and even a little… was that embarrassment lurking at the corner of his mouth? Abruptly, he pulled his hands away and mumbled something about the time again.  
  
"Hawkeye?" she called worriedly to his back as he turned and began to walk away. He stopped, and slowly turned around to face her, regarding her lovely features silently. She made an attempt to lighten the atmosphere.  
  
"I like it here. But next time, do you think we could get here without getting so wet?!"  
  
He smirked, and warmed up a bit on the ride home.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
"Steve, I just can't take it anymore. The verbal abuse, sometimes even the physical; possessiveness. You told me to stop a relationship with one of my dearest friends because YOU were uncomfortable."  
  
"He looked at you the wrong way. He says things to you, grabs you, picks you up. You have a more physical relationship with him than yo do with me!! Am I just supposed to sit back and watch? NO. I'm going to act. I'm going to act right now." He walked over to the bed and revealed a huge baseball bat, which he seemed to whield with pleasure.  
  
"I'm in charge now, and I think we are going to be together for a very long time."  
  
Margaret backed up as he slowly advanced. She bumped the nightstand, knocking the phone off it's cradle. The sound of the dial tone gave her an idea, and she fought to keep it from being seen in her face. It was her only hope, and Steve couldn't realize what she had planned or she was a pulp waiting to happen. Her fingers danced rapidly over the keypad, knowing the number by heart. Ringing. Pick up Hawkeye, she prayed silently. Pick up pick up pick up-  
  
"Hello?" a tiny and familiar voice said at the other end of the line. Thank you God.  
  
"Steve, can't we talk?" she said loudly, hoping Hawkeye would hear.  
  
Steve grinned maliciously. "Sure. The longer you talk the longer you live."  
  
"Why do you want to hurt me?"  
  
The tiny voice on the other end was talking again. "Oh my God. I'll be right there."  
  
Only Margaret had heard it, and only she heard as the line went dead. She just hoped he got there before she did the same thing.  
  
"You betrayed me." Steve's voice brought her back to the task at hand.  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"You heard me. You and Hawkeye. I see the way he looks at you."  
  
"Now wait just a—how does he look at me?" she asked, suddenly intrigued.  
  
"Like a forlorn little puppy dog."  
  
Margaret snorted, for a moment forgetting that she was in the presence of someone who could, at any moment, use her for batting practice. "A puppy? A pitiful puppy? I don't think he has a pitiful bone in his body."  
  
"Yeah. He looks like he wants you but knows he can't have you. Damn straight. If I can't have you, no one will. I'm about to make sure of that."  
  
Suddenly, it dawned on her who she was talking to, and Margaret's heart skipped a beat. It skipped another when she glanced to the door and saw a tall figure in the doorway. Trying to make it look like she hadn't seen her savior, she managed to catch him pantomiming swinging a baseball bat. He shook his head, and put the imaginary bat down. He pointed to Steve, who was now inching closer again, and mouthed "Stall".  
  
Margaret looked back at Steve and did the first thing she could think of. She smiled seductively and placed a finger on the middle of his chest.  
  
"You're right. I was foolish to think of leaving you. It will never happen again."  
  
She sat down on the bed, and to her surprise and disgust, he all but pounced on her and kissed her sloppily. He reeked of gin. Come on, she prayed silently.  
  
Thinking quickly, she said as well as she could between the kisses, "Why won't you hold me?" She felt the arms snake around her, and the bat clanked to the floor. Instantly, he was yanked roughly away from her. Usually a physically mellow man, Hawkeye himself was surprised on how quickly and effortlessly he had punched him out. 


	2. Is It Just Me 2

1 Is it Just Me Subchapter 2  
  
"Wow," Margaret commented when they had reached Hawkeye's house.  
  
Hawkeye glanced at her sideways. "What?"  
  
"I don't ever think I've seen you so mad."  
  
He walked out of the car and opened the door for her. His eyes were still black with fury. "Can you blame me?"  
  
"My hero." She stepped out of the car, and against her will, winced at some injury she had unknowingly sustained. Hawkeye caught it, and before she could evade him, she was being cradled in his arms.  
  
"Hey!" she squeaked, struggling to get out of his arms. "I'm not an invalid."  
  
"Too bad. Stop wiggling, and relax. You're only making this harder on yourself. And me." She finally relaxed, as he placed her gently on his bed and went to get the first aid.  
  
He reappeared a moment later toting a bag filled with various medical goodies. He pulled out the alcohol, and some bandages, along with Sterile Strips.  
  
"What are those for?"  
  
"Your cheek."  
  
"My… oh!!" She touched her cheek and realized there was blood on it.  
  
He flicked on the lamp next to her bed, and sat down. "Nice job. You're lucky you don't need stitches."  
  
"Hmmm," she responded halfheartedly. "I'm swearing off men." She cleared her throat. "You know, Steve said something interesting today. It made me think."  
  
Hawkeye didn't look up.  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"Yeah. He said you looked at me as though you wanted me but knew you couldn't have me." She looked up at him expectantly. His head shot up, a look of horror on his face that was actually comical.  
  
"He WHAT?!?"  
  
"You heard me. Is it true?"  
  
He hesitated, unable to pick his jaw up from the floor. He had been feeling something for her other than friendship, but it wasn't all the time, and she was beautiful, and they DID spend a lot of time together. Weren't those feelings only natural?  
  
"Ah ha," she exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger. " You just proved it. Hawkeye, why didn't you tell me?? Is that why you've been so distant lately?"  
  
"Well Margaret, it's more complicated than that really-" he began, but Margaret cut him off with a hand over his mouth. He nodded silently.  
  
"Oh Hawkeye," she whispered, leaning in towards him slightly.  
  
Before he could stop himself, Hawkeye's lips had collided gently with hers. It was like she had remembered in Korea. A small slice of heaven. He was drowning a sweet, slow death in warm pools of loveliness.  
  
She was obviously enjoying the kiss too. He felt her hands slowly creep up her chest and around the collar, gently massaging the back of his neck. He let himself sink into it for a moment, before pulling back so quickly that Margaret almost fell forward.  
  
"Wait—wait a minute… what are we doing??" he asked, pacing around the room.  
  
Margaret watched him bemusedly. "As far as I can recall, that's kissing. And as far as I know, you've never turned down the opportunity. Why now??"  
  
A sad smile flitted over his face. "I never had anything to lose before."  
  
"You have something to lose now?"  
  
He came back over and sat down across from her again, taking her hands in his and stroking her hands gently with his thumbs. "I could lose you. I don't want to jeapordize anything so precious. We worked long and hard to get as far as we did, and almost lost it once. I mean, think about it. 4 years ago you would have done anything to get me punished, or better yet, shot. We hated each other; me with my joke-a-matic style, my robe, and my Hawaiian shirt; you with your army regulations, that damn bun, and Frank. Now look where we are!!"  
  
Margaret sighed. "You're right. We've both changed. Almost in the opposite ways, too. We've kind of reached a happy medium. I've grown down, and let my hair loose… literally, and you've somehow grown up."  
  
Hawkeye gasped through his smile. "Perish the thought!! How could I ever give up my groucho glasses and whoopee cushion?!?!"  
  
"That sounds more like the idiot I know."  
  
The phone rang in the Hunnicutt residence late Sunday morning.  
  
"O king of the fishermen!" Peg called from the changing room. "Would you kindly reel yourself into the kitchen to get the phone? I'm busy here."  
  
BJ materialized in the doorway. "Of course, my queen," he answered, sweeping off his battered fishing hat and bowing. A moment later, the jangling stopped as the phone was picked up.  
  
"Hunnicutt Residence."  
  
"Beej?"  
  
"Hawk?"  
  
"The one and only!! I haven't talked with you in ages!! How've you been? How'd you know it was me?"  
  
"You have a nasally voice on the phone that sounds like Frank if he had a chin."  
  
"Watch it pal."  
  
"Just kidding. So, what's been happening over on the east coast?"  
  
"A lot, actually." Hawkeye explained the situation. BJ was appalled.  
  
"You're coming down here. Now."  
  
"Beej, you don't have to—"  
  
"But I am. Pack your bags. I'll see you in three days."  
  
As he hung up the phone, BJ did a little tapdance in delight. This was perfect timing.  
  
~  
  
"BJ!!" Margaret and Hawkeye called as they stepped off the runway.  
  
"Hawk!! Margaret!!" he cried, embracing his former colleagues. Peg joined the group hug, and they huddled together for a minute before Hawkeye pulled back.  
  
"And who is this lovely young beautifully built woman?" he asked, grinning ear to ear.  
  
"This is the lovely, beautiful, already SPOKEN for, Peggie," BJ replied, linking arms protectively with his wife. She laughed, and poked him playfully in the ribs.  
  
"BJ, I'm going to assume this is Hawkeye from all you've told me about him?? And with that information I already know enough to watch out!"  
  
Hawkeye dropped his jaw and glared at his friend. "Hey!! What have you been telling her?"  
  
BJ scuffed his toe in the dirt. "Oh, nothing," he smiled innocently.  
  
"Oohhhhh, that's a sorry sight if ever I saw one."  
  
"Ahhhh, now this is what I call a vacation," Hawkeye sighed contentedly, pulling his fishing hat over his eyes and leaning back in BJ's old boat, line clasped loosely in his hand.  
  
"You're telling me," BJ replied, casting out his line and stretching out in a similar fashion. They heard a faint splashing, but neither one of them took much notice. Soon, the splashing grew a little louder, and they cocked up their hats in unison to raise their eyebrows at each other. They both sat up, but before they had the chance to do anything else, loud laughter surfaced from the side of their boat, and the source of that laughter tipped the boat over, sending it's inhabitants flailing and sailing into the water.  
  
When the surfaced, sputtering and splashing, they were confronted with two cackling women, both blonde.  
  
"Payback, payback!!" Margaret sang out, doing a sort of dance in the water. Then she turned to a small gathering on shore. "Did you get that??" she called to a figure who was holding a video camera. She received the "A-OK". She slapped Peg hi five, and didn't have time to do anything else before being dunked by Hawkeye.  
  
"Peg, what did I ever do to deserve this?" BJ asked, paddling over to his still laughing wife.  
  
"Our honeymoon," she replied matter-of-factly. "You, my dear sir, threw me into the pool at that resort."  
  
"Bringing up ancient history, huh? I guess I'm just so perfect now, there's nothing to get revenge on, is there?"  
  
"No," Peg replied, shaking her head. "There's just too much to pick one instance." With that, she kicked off backwards, splashing her husband with the effort.  
  
"Oh, so that's how you want to play," he growled, swimming slowly toward Peg.  
  
" Don't you dare—hey!! That tickles!!"  
  
"Radar!! Klinger!! Charles! What are you doing here?!" Hawkeye exclaimed, wading ashore fifteen minutes later. The three men in question pointed behind them to a large banner strung between two poles that sported: MASH 4077th. Best Care Anywhere. Reunion Party (Here we go again!) etched big, red, bold sloppy letters. Below the banner the rest of the unit stood, smiling.  
  
"Hawkeye, how the hell have you been?" Colonel Potter cried, coming over and embracing his sopping former chief surgeon briefly. Then he stood back, and allowed a woman to step forward. Her eyes matched her husband's with the lightning they held, not at all affected by age.  
  
"Meet the Missus," Potter said, wrapping an arm around Mildred, who bobbed her head in greeting. BJ, who had by now climbed out of the water along with Margaret and Peg came over to stand next to Hawkeye. He shook Mildred's hand, and Hawkeye went a step further to kiss it.  
  
"What an astonishingly attractive damsel!" he proclaimed, wiggling his eyebrows at the laughing Mildred. Sherman faked rage and snatched the hand back, shaking a finger at Hawkeye.  
  
"You fiend! She's mine! I got her fair and square!!" But he too was laughing.  
  
Klinger came forward, holding hands with the very pregnant Soon- Lee, who looked radiant even in her state. Lips painted a ruby red, naturally thick curly lashes enhanced, raven black hair shining in the midday sun, she looked young, and happy.  
  
Margaret reached her first, and hugged her carefully around her swollen stomach.  
  
"Soon- Lee!! It's wonderful to see you!"  
  
"It is wonderful to see you too!" Soon Lee replied, accented voice lilting pleasantly as she spoke. "I have missed you all very much." This comment was met with a group hug, parting only when Colonel Potter stepped in.  
  
"Does anyone around here know where Radar got to?"  
  
"Probably to get his wife," Peg answered.  
  
There was a unanimous jaw dropping as what she had said registered.  
  
"His WHAT?!?"  
  
"Wife," Peg repeated, looking confused. "Oh, you mean you didn't know?"  
  
"No," BJ responded. "Hawkeye didn't know. I didn't know, and I set this whole thing up!! Nobody knew… so how did YOU know?"  
  
Peg shrugged. "I asked."  
  
Hawkeye smacked his forehead dramatically. "Now why didn't we think of that?"  
  
"Plus," Peg continued, "I had a little help." She motioned towards Klinger, who waved innocently.  
  
"You knew about this, and you didn't tell us?!?!?" BJ and Hawkeye shouted in unison.  
  
"Uh… oops?"  
  
The two men looked about ready to strangle the Lebonese informer. He shuffled in back of Colonel Potter, peeking out over heads. "Ahhhh… would it help if I told you about the kids?"  
  
"KIDS!!!!!!"  
  
"Three," Radar's voice injected. The entire crowd spun around, where Radar stood next to an attractive, brown curly haired woman, who was holding hands with a toddler who seemed intrigued by her audience. Radar, on the other hand, was cradling two babies, who cooed and gurgled happily.  
  
"RADAR!!"  
  
"Yes sir?"  
  
"Where did you find her?"  
  
Hawkeye walked up to the O'Reilly Family, mouth still open, and gesturing towards the smiling woman.  
  
"This is Patty. I met her on that trip to Tokyo right before I went home. She only lived about a hundred miles away, and we met up, and well… the rest is history."  
  
"And we all want to hear about it, in great detail," Peggie interjected.  
  
"Yes!!" agreed Margaret, walking up. "It's such a pleasure to meet you! And who are these?"  
  
"Well," Radar replied. "This is Julie and Andy here, the twins. And this little princess," he said, motioning towards the shy little girl clinging to her mother's hands, "Is Marie."  
  
"Hello Marie," Margaret said softly, bending down so she was eye level.  
  
Charles notice the distinct chatter in her voice when she spoke, and suggested they warm themselves before they caught cold. So the wet people of the parties huddled together under a blanket, while Radar went off to get that "thing", as BJ had put it, glancing meaningfully towards his former CO.  
  
They talked for a few minutes, talking about what everyone was doing now, Father Mulcahy's operation, Soon Lee's pregnancy, and the good times there had been at the 4077th. A whistle from behind brought everyone back to the present time. A familiar "naying" brought Colonel Potter's head to an almost 180 degree swivel.  
  
As if he were in a trance, he stood up, and made his way to where Radar was standing, holding a very familiar, magnificent creature—  
  
"Sophie?" he whispered, looking into the liquid brown eyes he had stared into so many times in Korea.  
  
"Yes sir," Radar said back, with the same smile on his face he had had when first presented Sophie, almost two years ago.  
  
"But," he paused, trying to hold back tears. "How did she get here?"  
  
"Essentially," BJ explained, coming up, along with the rest of the crew, "the orphanage in Korea wrote and said that they had had a bad season of crops and needed everything they had for the children. So we sent her over here by way of ship, and she's been camped out at Radar's ever since. That gave us enough time to pool together enough cash for the ranch."  
  
"Ranch? What ranch?"  
  
Mildred walked up and put an arm around her dumbfounded husband. "The Peterson's old ranch. You have very wonderful friends to go through this much trouble for you."  
  
The misty eyed colonel smiled. "Damn straight."  
  
Later that day.  
  
"Well, I'm warm!" Hawkeye announced, jumping to his feet with child like energy. Peg joined him.  
  
"Me too. So what do you have in mind??"  
  
"Do you think you and your puny husband can stand up to Margaret and me in a challenging game of Chicken?"  
  
"You make it sound like chess, Pierce. That statement, all in itself, shrivels the mind."  
  
"Ever the pompous linguist. Well Beej, are you coming?"  
  
But BJ was already up and chasing Peg towards the water. Hawkeye ran after him, and Margaret after Hawkeye.  
  
Peggie crawled up onto BJ's back, and Margaret scrambled onto Hawkeye's. The women shoved playfully at each other, while the men down below shouted insults at each other.  
  
"Big foot!"  
  
"Shortie!"  
  
"Joke machine!! You couldn't go a day without telling a joke… so insecure!"  
  
"At least I didn't grow a caterpillar under my nose!!"  
  
"Oo, that was below the belt."  
  
"You bet, I— "  
  
Hawkeye never got the chance to finish, because Peg gave one final shove and Margaret catapulted backwards into the water, taking him with her as she fell.  
  
"AAIIEEEEEE!!!!" they screeched as they fell. Under the water, they each grabbed one of BJ's ankles and pulled. He toppled into the water with Peg. When he finally surfaced, Hawkeye and Margaret were clutching at each other, trying to stay up, and failing miserably because they were laughing so hard.  
  
Even Later that Day…  
  
The day was winding down. Everyone had eaten a potluck picnic dinner, and they had built a small campfire.  
  
Klinger and Soon Lee walked barefoot along the water's edge, picking up shells as they went.  
  
"Reminds you of when they first fell in love in Korea," Margaret commented, watching them.  
  
"Yeah," Hawkeye replied, also watching at the couple. Except last time we did this she was nine months pregnant."  
  
"You know, I've been thinking," Margaret said on another note.  
  
"Uh oh."  
  
"Oh hush. Remember that day a few weeks back?"  
  
"You mean with Steve?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Ahhh…hmmmm…" Hawkeye said suspiciously, glancing around to make sure no one else was in hearing range.  
  
"And how you cared for me afterwards??  
  
The look of horror on his face was visible even in the moonlight. "Now wait a minute!! I was distraught; you were distraught… you can't blame me for that—"  
  
"Hawkeye."  
  
"It was just one kiss!!"  
  
"Hawkeye!!"  
  
"And you kissed me back…"  
  
"Captain Pierce!!"  
  
He stopped rambling and looked at her.  
  
"Yes. I kissed you back, because I enjoyed it too. And it's obvious we can't get through life together without that occasional spark. Agreed?"  
  
"Agreed," he responded, still perplexed.  
  
"So here's my proposal."  
  
"Proposing so soon? Margaret, it was just a kiss."  
  
She smacked a hand over his mouth so she could continue, uninterrupted.  
  
"I propose that, once a year, we hold up that tradition. Sort of like an anniversary. Deal?"  
  
He nodded wordlessly; she still had a firm hand abating any speech.  
  
"Are you two enjoying yourselves?" A voice said behind them. Colonel Potter sat down next to them and motioned towards the water, where Radar splashed in the water with Marie, swinging her around by her arms. Peg had taken charge of the little ones and brought them up to the house so they could sleep in the bed, so Patty could join them in the water. Someone could have easily turned that scene of the three of them into a Norman Rockwell masterpiece.  
  
"Can you believe it?" Potter asked. "Little Radar is married. With three kids!"  
  
"Yeah. That's probably my fault. Showed him one too many books on reproduction."  
  
Colonel Potter laughed. You're probably right."  
  
BJ walked up behind them and pulled off his shoes. "I don't know about you, but I think those three have the right idea."  
  
"You know, I do believe you're right!" Hawkeye exclaimed, standing up.  
  
"Ah ha, you boys never do grow up, do you?" Sherman chuckled, also getting to his feet.  
  
"Race ya?"  
  
"Would I ever turn down the opportunity to beat you?" Hawkeye inquired.  
  
"On your mark…"  
  
"Get—hey!!!" BJ called out, and started to chase after Hawkeye, who had started early. He chased after his crazed colleague, tackling him just before they reached the water. They rolled in, and when they surfaced, Hawkeye was riding Piggy Back style on BJ's broad shoulders.  
  
With a malicious grin everybody saw even as they ran down to the water, he lurched backwards, dumping the rider into the water again. The rest of the former 4077th members jumped into the water as well for a moonlight splash, with the exception of Klinger and Soon Lee, Charles, who refused to take part in such "Child play" , and Margaret, who stood at the edge.  
  
"Come on Margaret!!" Father Mulcahy called from the splashes that emanated from Kellye.  
  
"But it's cold—HEY!! You're cold too!" she shouted as Hawkeye scooped her up and carried her into the man made surf.  
  
BJ came over and grabbed Margaret's arms, while Hawkeye slid his grip down to her feet.  
  
"One!" They shouted, swinging her.  
  
"Don't you dare!"  
  
"Two!!"  
  
"I'll kill you both!"  
  
"THREE!!" they finished, and with a final swing, tossed a screaming Margaret into the frothy splashes.  
  
She rose a moment later, screaming bloody murder.  
  
"You idiots!! Benjamin Franklin Pierce!! Do you enjoy soaking me?"  
  
"Very much."  
  
"Oooooooooo, you—" she sputtered, apparently not able to find a word horrible enough to describe him. And at the applause of everyone, he stood and took a bow.  
  
A few days later…  
  
"Well, this is the big sharaah, huh?" Colonel Potter asked, putting the last of his trunks into the back of his car.  
  
"Of course not!!" Klinger replied, strolling outside with his arm wrapped around Soon Lee. "It only took us a year to get together the first time. We'll be together in no time at all!"  
  
"Max is right," Soon Lee added. "We will see each other in no time at all." She ignored the achy feeling she had started to get in her stomach.  
  
"You're right," Peg said, coming outside with the rest of the stragglers. Most everyone else had gone home already. "Call us soon!"  
  
"That goes double for us," Margaret said, arms linked with Hawkeye.  
  
"If you two don't beat all. It's a wonder you aren't---" Colonel Potter didn't finish his statement, but everyone got the drift of what he was saying.  
  
"OK, one more group hug… it's gotta last!" Hawkeye called, and everyone huddled together one last time.  
  
Then they all parted, and went their separate ways once again.  
  
"OWW!" Soon Lee exclaimed in the back of the Potter's car, clutching at her stomach.  
  
"Honey, what's the matter??"  
  
"I-I…" she trailed off, and let out a piteous moan.  
  
"Uh oh," Colonel Potter said, glancing in the rear view mirror.  
  
"Uh oh, sir?"  
  
"Mildred, dear, keep your eyes out for a hospital. Klinger, keep her calm. And yourself too, for that matter."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"You're about to add "Daddy" to your resume."  
  
**end of part 2** 


	3. Is It Just Me 3

Part 3  
  
Soon Lee moaned in pain. The contractions were coming more quickly now, and she had this overwhelmimg desire to push. And they were no where near a hospital "Klinger!" Colonel Potter barked. "Time those contractions. I need to know how much time we have."  
  
"There's about a minute and a half between them, sir," Klinger said, checking his watch. "Great Balls of Fire!!" Potter exclaimed. "We're not going to have time to get to that hospital!! Klinger, get my med bag and keep your eye on that girl! We're about to have an old fashioned birth."  
  
Klinger gulped. He was worried about his wife, and about his child to come. But if there was a good time to be stuck in the middle of nowhere with a woman about to give birth, he was in it. He had a qualified doctor, and a priest, who already seemed to be doing what he did best.  
  
Colonel Potter pulled over to a small diner he had spotted. Together he, Father Mulcahy, Max, and Mildred somehow maneuvered Soon Lee inside.  
  
"Somebody call an ambulance!" Klinger shouted.  
  
"I don't think we have time!" Colonel Potter shouted back. Then, his colonelness kicked in. "Somebody boil some water and get me some sheets. blankets. anything! And clear off that table!" People immediately jumped to the command, and everything they asked for was miraculously brought. Father Mulcahy spread a sheet out over the table, and Klinger and Mildred tacked up blankets around the table for privacy. Somewhere in the background someone was calling 911.  
  
"Excuse me, honey." Colonel Potter said as casually as he could, while lifting up the dress. "Just gotta take a quick peek to see how close you are to getting that little bundle of joy!"  
  
Soon Lee nodded. Colonel Potter peeked under her dress as quickly as possible, and then grabbed for his med bag.  
  
"She's dialated 10 centimeters," he mumbled to Father Mulcahy.  
  
"What does that mean?" Father asked.  
  
"It means that the baby's due any minute."  
  
Father Mulcahy took off his worn hat and wrung it in his hands, as he had the tendency to do when he was nervous. "Oh dear."  
  
At that moment, another contraction seized the woman in question, and Father Mulcahy was nudged outside to help calm a distraught Klinger.  
  
"Is she ok?" he asked, whirling around.  
  
"She's fine, Max. The baby should be coming any minute."  
  
Max's eyes widened. "You mean. well. Holy Toledo!!"  
  
He grabbed Father Mulcahy's arms and started to dance him around the room.  
  
"Max!!" Father exclaimed, laughing. "The baby's not here yet!"  
  
"Well," a voice said from inside the enclosure. "I wouldn't say that."  
  
Colonel Potter's finger popped through the sheets, and beckoned them in. Max and the Father walked inside, where Soon Lee, sweaty and exhausted, held a tiny child in her arms, who looked pleasantly surprised with her new surroundings.  
  
"Your daughter," Soon Lee presented, handing up the bundle to a glowing Klinger, who accepted it and peeked inside.  
  
"Hey you!!" he exclaimed, brushing her nose gently with a finger. "Look at that little thing! She's got your nose, honey."  
  
"Thank heaven's for that!"  
  
"Hey!" But he chuckled, and bent down to give his wife, a peck on the lips.  
  
"What's her name?" Colonel Potter asked, looking over Klinger's shoulder. "Rebecca," the two love birds answered together.  
  
"Beautiful."  
  
"My two girls," Klinger said, sliding into the bench next to his wife. "My two beautiful girls."  
  
1 year later.  
  
"Arrrrghhhh! What are you doing?!" Hawkeye called, coming called, coming up the front steps. Margaret had been taking his laundry in, which, incidently, she had washed and put out earlier.  
  
"Your laundry."  
  
"I can see that. Why are you doing my laundry?"  
  
"Because," she replied matter of factly, "As long as I'm living in your house, I refuse to live in the re-creation of the Swamp."  
  
She lived with Hawkeye when the dreams started. They didn't call them nightmares, because those were the types of things little kids got when a monster chased them. No, this was much worse than that. This was enough to make a grown, strong man scream, wake in a cold sweat, eyes bugging out, clutching at the sheets for fear of being transported back to their hell. That's when Margaret took the spare bedroom.  
  
"But Margaret!" he exclaimed, jolting her from her thoughts. The scandalized look on her face was fit to be framed. "How will I find anything if it's where it's supposed to be?" Margaret laughed. "You'll adapt." Then, as if she hadn't seen him before that, gave him the once over. "Where have you been?"  
  
" The green. The Crab Apple Carnival starts tonight, and I was helping get everything set up."  
  
"By rolling around in the mud?" Margaret inquired, eyeing his grass streaked jeans, sweaty face, and dirt streaked everything.  
  
"What, this?" Hawkeye asked, opening his arms and turning slowly so Margaret could get the whole picture. "This is the new look! Rustic, sleek, stylish-"  
  
"And dirty," Margaret finished. "If you're taking me somewhere for out first official anniversary, you're at least going to have to take a shower."  
  
"Awwww, Do I hafta?" he whined in his most nasally voice.  
  
"Yes, you hafta," she replied in an equally obnoxious voice. "Don't make me get the hose again."  
  
He backed up slowly, waving his hands in defeat. "No no, I'll go take a shower." And before Margaret could get another word in, he had swooped through the screen door and pounded upstairs. She smirked a little as she finished folding a shirt.  
  
About 20 minutes later, holding a basket of laundry in her arms, she managed to make a fist to rap on the bathroom door.  
  
"Are you decent?" she called through the wood.  
  
"More than decent. I'm fantastic! Listen!" he replied and started to sing what he had dubbed as opera.  
  
"Ok, I'm just coming in to put in fresh towels," she stated, pushing the door open, unaware that he had not heard her last statement.  
  
"EEKK!!" she shrieked, basket of laundry toppling to the floor as she covered her eyes with her arms. "You told me you were decent!"  
  
Hawkeye, who was dressed in nothing but a towel draped loosely over his waist, was obviously enjoying the situation. "I said no such thing. I told you I was fantastic!" he chuckled, turning his head towards her. "Could I have my clothes?"  
  
Maneuvering her arms so her eyes were still covered, she reached on the shelf behind her and thrust a pair of jeans and a white tee to him. "And don't you come out of there until you're dressed!"  
  
Pushing the door open again with her foot, Margaret swept out of the room again, breathing a sigh of relief and an exasperated groan at the same time when she heard the laughter now emitting from the bathroom.  
  
She walked down the hall to the spare room, where she had kept her change of clothes and other feminine objects when she had arrived earlier.  
  
She wore neutral makeup for a change, and tied her hair in pigtails, determined to look as much like a youth as she could tonight. She pulled off the grubby shirt and shorts she was wearing and replaced it with a pink checkered sundress, that showed off her figure well when she tied it around the back.  
  
Hawkeye emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later, fully clothed thankfully, and smiled when he saw her playful attire.  
  
"You look magnificent."  
  
"I know. Well, what are you waiting for?" She crossed her arms and tapped a foot impatiently.  
  
Hawkeye tilted his head back and laughed heartily before offering his arm. Together, they walked out the door.  
  
A few hours and a lot of roller coasters later, the two kids for a night were collapsed onto a picnic table. Hawkeye leaned back on his elbows against the table, and Margaret was sprawled out over the rest of the bench, head resting on Hawkeye's lap.  
  
"You know, we really are an interesting couple," Margaret said up to the salt and pepper head. The head shot down, and a confused and surprised face presented itself.  
  
"C-couple?" he stuttered, eyes wide. "I didn't realize I had qualified for that title."  
  
"Well," she recondeded. "Not a couple couple, really. I mean, we're really good friends, and." she trailed off, not really sure how to continue.  
  
"Occasionally Very good kissing companions," Hawk finished less than delicately. Margaret glared up at him with the evil eye, but he only shook his head and widened his smile.  
  
"Nope. It just doesn't have the same effect if you're horizontal."  
  
"Hmph." She stood up and stretched, then reached behind the bench for something.  
  
"Really?" she continued in a dangerous tone, straightening. "How does this hit you?"  
  
From a bright yellow bucket, she produced a water balloon, which she catapulted on his right arm.  
  
"Hey!" he shouted as the bomb exploded in a thousand tiny droplets that shot up into his face. "I'm unarmed!"  
  
"Funny, you look like you got two perfectly good ones to me!" Margaret responded, nailing the other arm.  
  
"Arrrggghhh!!" Hawkeye shouted, jumping off the bench and racing off into the crowd, presumably to find his own source of weaponry.  
  
Margaret chuckled to herself, and then went off into the crowd, in search of a cackling maniac in a gaudy blue Hawaiian shirt.  
  
She paused for a moment beside the ferris wheel, and a large balloon landed squarely on her head.  
  
"Ow!" she shrieked, looking up. What she saw was Hawkeye, clutching at his stomach with laughter and pointing down at her.  
  
"Oh-you - you-" she trailed off, apparently unable to find a word horrible enough to describe him. He smiled a huge cheesy grin and waved to her.  
  
"Just wait till you get off there buster!" she shouted.  
  
"I'm never coming down!" came the response.  
  
"You can't stay up there forever!"  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Because you still have your end of the bargain for this evening to hold up!" The ride made another loop, and Margaret watched as realization hit.  
  
"You mean, you're serious?"  
  
"Dead serious. Which, by the way, is going to be your new status if you don't get down here!"  
  
The worker of the ride, incidently one of Hawkeye's childhood friends, paused the ride long enough for his friend to scramble off. He was off the platform and to Margaret in three long strides, and took her into his arms.  
  
Margaret tilted her head back and waited. And waited. She cracked an eye open. "Well?"  
  
"Well what?" Hawkeye replied innocently.  
  
"Do I have to do everything myself?"  
  
Hawkeye snickered. "I'd like to see you try."  
  
Margaret gave him a sort of "All right, I will" look, and stood on tiptoes to reach him. He mimicked her, standing on his own toes to evade her. His eyes danced with laugher.  
  
"Don't laugh at me."  
  
"I'm not!" he defended.  
  
"Your eyes are."  
  
"Hey! That's not fair!"  
  
"I don't play fair," she growled, and grabbed a tuft of hair, pulling him down to her. He would have said "ow" if he hadn't been so busy.  
  
John "Trapper" McIntyre walked down the stairs on Thursday evening and pecked his wife and girls on the cheek, and sat down with the daily newspaper. A few minutes later, the phone rang, and both he and his wife jumped to get it.  
  
"Ha!" Louise exclaimed, sticking her tongue out as she reached the phone. Trapper stuck his tongue out back and grabbed her from behind around the waist.  
  
"H-hello?" Louise asked, suppressing a giggle. "Yes, he's right here." She handed her crazy husband, who grinned.  
  
"McIntyre here."  
  
"Trapp?"  
  
"Hawk?"  
  
"Hey-ey!! It's been a long time!!"  
  
"Too long!" Hawkeye agreed, smiling into the phone.  
  
They talked for some time, getting reacquainted, bringing each other up to date on everything going on in each other's lives.  
  
"I saw you on that news," Trapper commented on one point. "What, you were actually serious some of the time! Not the ol' Yankee Doodle Doctor I left behind, are you?"  
  
"No," Hawkeye pondered. "I guess I'm not."  
  
They talked for awhile longer, and by another half hour, they had schemed a get together a week from that day.  
  
"So, what's the latest on Hot Lips??" Trapper asked, changing the subject once more. There was so much he had missed. "Last I knew, she was Frank's bimbo. What's changed?"  
  
Hawkeye smiled into the phone, and decided to have some fun with this. "Actually," he answered in as casual a tone he could, "she's living with me." It was almost true, after all. Sure, he implied that they were living as in sleeping in the same bedroom instead of being occasional roommates, but how could he resist this?  
  
He listened for the jaw on the other end of the line to hit the ground.  
  
"Y-you. you WHAT!? Hawkeye, have you no shame?"  
  
He couldn't stand it. He had o get off the phone before he exploded. "Yeah- uh Trapp? I'll explain it to you when you get here. See you in a week."  
  
As soon as he had put the phone back on the cradle, he burst out. When Margaret walked in a few minutes later, toting the shopping bags with supper in them, she found Hawkeye still howling.  
  
"What is so funny?" she demanded, cracking up just seeing him. When he could catch his breath, Hawkeye sat down and explained the conversation  
  
"Oh, you're evil," Margaret chuckled as he finished the story, breaking up again. "I can't believe you did that!!"  
  
A few days later.  
  
Margaret picked up the phone in the back room of the hospital. "Hey Hawk. no. to casual. "Hello Hawkeye.no. Definitely not. Uggghhhhh," she practiced to herself while she listened to the ring. This is so stupid, she thought to herself. You talk to him every day. Why are you rehearsing like this is some damn play? Just then, the phone picked up.  
  
"Pierce residence."  
  
"Hi!!" she squeaked, smacking herself on the head as she jumped at the sound of his voice.  
  
"Hey!" Hawk replied. "What's up?"  
  
"Not much. hey. are you busy tonight?" Margaret asked, hoping it didn't sound like she was coming onto him. "I'm getting lonely in that house all alone." That's true, she told herself. I am lonely. For the time being, the dreams had stopped, and she had moved back into her house. She missed him, more than she wanted to admit.  
  
"Nope, bored out of my mind actually. What did you have in mind?"  
  
"Oh, I dunno. Dinner and coffee? I'll make Caesar Salad."  
  
"You got it, baby."  
  
"That's major to you," Margaret snapped playfully into the phone. That was a running joke between them, which she had found to be funny once she looked back on who she was when he had first said that. Her life back then was a joke all in itself.  
  
"All right, Major Baby." Hawkeye's voice brought her back from Memories. "See you in a half an hour." The line clicked as he hung up. Margaret sighed almost sadly and walked out the door.  
  
A few minutes later  
  
Hawk had let himself into her house, and already had most of the ingredients for the salad out by the time Margaret got in.  
  
"Ok, step away from the lettuce with your hands up and nobody will get hurt," she said in her bossiest voice, jabbing him in the ribs.  
  
"Ouch! All right, all right, don't get so pushy!" he retaliated, and retreated to the couch, flipping on the news. Margaret bustled around the kitchen, pausing when she realized a pair of eyes glued on her. She spun around, and looked through the doorway, where Hawkeye was watching her from the couch, big goofy grin on his face. Something in that smile melted her, and for a moment she let her guard down. What am I doing? She yelled at herself. Not an option, remember? Step away from the Hawkeye and nobody gets hurt. Especially me. What was she feeling? Was she falling for him??  
  
Is it Just Me?  
  
Lately, I've been stumbling over my words  
  
When I talk to you I get nervous  
  
And I rehearse how to say hello  
  
When you call me on the phone  
  
And when you're over at my house  
  
Watchin' tv sitting on the couch  
  
Just hanging out  
  
I catch you starin' at me with that silly grin  
  
Are we just friends  
  
Or is there something going on  
  
Can you feel it too?  
  
Or is it just me  
  
Felling this way  
  
Am I the only one that senses  
  
Something going on behind the scenes  
  
Or is it just you, the way that you are  
  
That I can't resist and you can't help it  
  
Baby are you falling in love  
  
Or is it just me?  
  
Maybe, you're just a harmless flirt, and It's safe to rest assured  
  
That it's absurd the way my brain  
  
Will over analyze  
  
And when my head begins to rush  
  
Every time I think of us  
  
Looking up, I get the feeling that this feeling might be real  
  
So what's the deal  
  
Is there something going on?  
  
Can you feel it too.  
  
Or is it just me  
  
Feeling this way  
  
Am I the only one that senses  
  
Something going on behind the scenes  
  
Or is it just you  
  
The way that you are  
  
That I can't resist and you can't help it  
  
Baby are you fallin' in love  
  
Or is it just me  
  
Whose pulse is pounding  
  
Whenever you're near, is it hot in here?  
  
Or is it just me?  
  
Or is it just you? The way that you are  
  
That I can't resist and you can't help it  
  
Baby are you falling in love?  
  
Or is it just me? (feel like I'm fallin' in love)  
  
Is it just me? (feel like I'm fallin' in love)  
  
Is it just me.  
  
  
  
Author's note: This is not the end of the story, just the end of this part. the next piece comes out as soon as I can. The song lyrics above are not mine; they belong to Lila McCann. I just thought the summed up this part of the story, so here they are!! Love, and peace. TTYL GFA Abyssinia!! "They're here!" Hawkeye's voice called from the living room, where he had been patrolling from the window. Margaret tossed off her apron and did one last makeup check on the back of a pan. She walked into the living room, and burst out laughing. Hawkeye had the most evil grin on his face, and was practically rubbing his hands together with glee.  
  
"Now remember, we're supposed to be married," Margaret reprimanded, shaking a finger. She shot up and smooched him on the cheek before he had the chance to evade her, making sure to leave a lipstick mark.  
  
"Blech!" he exclaimed, rubbing at his brand. "What was that for?" He hated lipstick anywhere on him except his collar. And she knew that.  
  
"Gives it that special touch, dear."  
  
"Oh. Right darling," Hawkeye countered, wrinkling his nose and smiling at the same time. Then he went to get the door.  
  
"Trapp!" he exclaimed, embracing his old bunkmate. "I haven't seen you since-"  
  
"The day I left that hellhole!" Trapper filled in, standing back and looking at Hawkeye. He had changed so much. While he still wore the same gaudy Hawaiian shirt, they were no longer paired with khaki army pants, but comfortable slacks. His face, to Trapper, seemed gaunt, compared to the boyish face he had left behind, and silver had invaded raven black hair. But he grinned the same insolent grin, and Trapper tried to ignore the tiny lines that lay at the corners of that very smile.  
  
He pulled a short , bobbing haired woman inside, introducing her as Louise. The four of them sat down, munching the tiny sandwiches Margaret had produced, and began to get reacquainted with one another. Trapper kept shooting confused and awestruck glances to Margaret and Hawkeye, who were sitting comfortably on couch, Hawkeye's arm draped loosely over the top, hand brushed gently on Margaret's shoulder. This is amazing, he kept thinking to himself. I can't believe it's true and yet it has to be, because Hot Lips would never let Hawkeye get anywhere near her outside of surgery, and Hawkeye certainly wouldn't want to.  
  
Later that evening, at dinner, he was even more dumfounded at how much Hawkeye made Margaret laugh, and even that she laughed at all. She's actually quite attractive when her personality's not shadowed by Frank's little army pet.  
  
"I'll get the coffee," Hawkeye announced when they had finished dinner and were contentedly chatting once more. He got up and disappeared once more into the other half of the double kitchen, where the stove and sink were kept. Margaret followed him.  
  
"I can't believe he's buying it!" she giggled.  
  
"Me either," Hawkeye replied, looking back out to where the kitchen table was.  
  
"This is almost as much fun as when BJ got us all together to get you," she continued, shooting an evil glance at her play-time hubby.  
  
"Hey!! Don't remind me!" Hawkeye groaned, swatting her playfully with a dish towel.  
  
A few hours later.  
  
Margaret yawned into her coffee once more, and stood up, stretching.  
  
"I hate to do this," she stated, suppressing another yawn, "But I'm exhausted. The guest room is down the hall and to the right, second door. We're in the first one," she said pointing down the darkened hall and emphasizing the we're. "'Night, Hawk." She bent down and kissed him lightly on the forehead.  
  
Hawkeye caught her hand as it slid off his shoulder and onto the back of the couch. "What, no goodnight kiss?"  
  
"Don't press it, pal." she warned, and then caught herself. "I mean, not in front of the guests dear."  
  
But Hawkeye's eyes danced, and he stood up, still not releasing her hand. "But baby, Trapper's seen us kiss before. Remember that Christmas in Korea? Everybody saw that one." He leaned forward and whispered in her ear. "Gives it that special touch, dear." And then, before she had the chance to think of anything that would release her, he had swooped in and was kissing her the same way he always had in front of people. He pulled her in so tightly to him, that the only move she could make was to wind her arms around his shoulders. Never around his neck, he hated that. He dipped her back, which he always did when he play kissed. That was the key factor in knowing whether or not the kiss was the real thing. That last day in Korea had been real. They had both stood straight, soaking each other up one last time.  
  
But even though she knew it was play; even with the dip, Margaret still tingled all the way from her head to her toes, and relished in that feeling of comfort and warmth he always provided.  
  
When they finally pulled apart, they held back laughs as Trapper and his wife did the same sequence everybody did when they kissed in public. First embarrassed, then trying not to look, then looking at the clock and shuffling randomly through whatever presented itself to keep busy while the kiss went on. and on. and on.  
  
"Nighty- nite. see you in awhile," Hawkeye said, evil glint still present in his eyes.  
  
"Don't count on it," Margaret said through her teeth, still smiling. Then she bid the McIntyre's goodnight and swept off to bed. Louise followed suit a few minutes later, leaving the two old bunkies to chat on their own.  
  
"I still can't believe it," Trapper said, shaking his head. "I mean. you and Hot-Margaret? It just doesn't seem possible. How did it happen?"  
  
"Oh, a little of this, a little of that," Hawkeye replied mysteriously.  
  
"Oh, well that explains a lot," Trapper said, plopping back onto the couch.  
  
"Really though, what kind of a person is she out of uniform?"  
  
"Well, she's lovely, really," Hawkeye explained, deciding to tell the truth, at least about this part. "She's kind, and sweet, and she's got a great sense of humor. Don't get me wrong, she's still got a temper that even the bravest man wouldn't tamper with, but after a pillow war or two she's peaceful as a sleeping baby again. It's a delicate balance."  
  
"Excuse me, a what?" Trapper asked, leaning forward once more.  
  
"Pillow war. What?! Pillow wars are just our way to physically alleviate anger towards each other without breaking the china. We get into an argument, and yell at each other, and then when one of us can't take it anymore, we chuck pillows at the other party. By the end of the battle we're both reduced to giggling heaps. I'll tell you one thing though, we go through pillows in this house relieving marital stress like you wouldn't believe!"  
  
Ok, everything except the "marital" part is true, he told himself. I can still pull off this practical joke when I want to.  
  
A few days later  
  
"Now boarding, Flight Number 17," a voice called over the loudspeaker, refreshingly different from the 4077th PA, whose only purpose was to announce more wounded.  
  
"I know that girl!" Hawkeye said, lifting his head and looking at the ceiling.  
  
"We won't ask how," Margaret replied, jabbing him in the ribs.  
  
Trapper put down his bags and hugged Hawkeye and then Margaret one last time. "I'll talk to you soon, ok?"  
  
"Sure thing!" Hawkeye responded cheerfully, putting an arm around Margaret's shoulder. "I think you're going to hear so much from us you'll be sick of us!"  
  
"Well, Lord knows I was in Korea," Trapper teased. Then he picked up his bags, let Louise bid her farewells, and, with a final wave, turned and began to walk down the platform to the plane. Then he turned around, broad grin on his face. "Hey, I finally got the last laugh!"  
  
"No, you didn't," Hawkeye called back. He pointed up, and as if on cue, the loudspeaker flared up again.  
  
"Attention, last call for Flight number 17, 17 now boarding. And attention to a Trapper McIntyre out there, they're not married. Repeat, they're not married. You lose again."  
  
Trapper's jaw dropped to the ground, and he watched hopelessly as he was herded up the runway at his old and new found friend burst out laughing, and wiggled their fingers up to him.  
  
Next October  
  
It was Halloween night, and the annual Crab Apple Cove Spook Out. On this night, while the boys and girls went out trick or treating, the adults went to a huge party, dressed up, and laughed, ate, played seasonal games, and had the annual seance, which was more for fun then the arousing of spirits.  
  
Hawkeye waited impatiently at the foot of the stairs, leaning on the banister of the stairs, tapping a foot. He was dressed in huge yellow pants with red polka dots, and a lime green pinstriped shirt, with matching pointy hat. He had a huge rubber ball on his nose, and huge bright red shoes, that squeaked when he walked.  
  
"Margaret, will you come on! We're way past the fashionably late stage," Hawkeye yelled up the stairs.  
  
"I'm coming, I'm coming," an exasperated voice called back down. A moment later she emerged from the top of the stairs, twirling for him to see. Hawkeye looked up, and slipped off the banister, almost toppling down to the floor.  
  
"Warn me when you're gonna do that!" he gasped, clutching at his heart.  
  
Margaret was dressed in a green skirt (if you can call it that) that glimmered when she moved. The bottom was purposely raggedy to give it the nymph-ie appearance, and translucent wings rested on the back of her shoulders. She had wound ivy into her hair in a wreath, and more around her wrists and ankles as bracelets.  
  
She walked down the stairs and hoisted Hawkeye to his feet again, snickering all the while.  
  
"I take it you like it then?" she asked in mock innocence.  
  
"Like is not the word. the proper word would be." After a pause, he searched his pockets and honked his horn, to say what his tongue twisted self couldn't. For once, Margaret only laughed, and took his elbow, leading him out the door.  
  
When they got to the town hall, Hawkeye squeaked out of the car and promptly burst out laughing. Most of his friends had already arrived, and were sitting in the apple tree, lanterns hanging next to them on the branch they sat on. Lisa, a nurse at Crab Apple's hospital, emerged from a basin of water, apple clenched between her teeth. Toby Wilder, who sat on the very top of the apple tree, waved down to Hawkeye and tossed an apple at him. Hawkeye caught it midair and took a huge bite, the tossed it over to Margaret, who also bit into the crisp whiteness.  
  
"This is fantastic!" she exclaimed, apple juice dribbling down her chin. "How do these get so good??"  
  
"We're on good terms with the tree spirits," Hawkeye replied mysteriously. Before she had the chance to ask what in hell he was talking about, Dicky Barber emerged from the attic window next to the illuminated clock on the hall's wall. He stood in front of it, his figure outlined and shadowed by the clock's light.  
  
"Madame Kurzbacher has assured us that the spirits are active tonight, and invites you to witness their arrival!" his deep voice rumbled over the active front lawn. The entire party filed into the front hall and took a seat at a huge table that had been used for every debate and party since the Civil War. This year, the hall was adorned with spidery webs, wispy pieces of material wafting about, and cauldrons that held dry ice that sent up a thick fog into the room. Candles, placed at random but various intervals, provided the only light in the room.  
  
Madame Kurzbacher, a 200 year old woman, (or so Hawkeye said) walked out and sat in the psychic's chair at the head of the table, and folded gnarly hands.  
  
"Hello and welcome to the 15th annual séance," her voice creaked across the hall. "Is there anyone we would like to speak to that has gone on to next world?"  
  
"How about my virginity?" Hawkeye called out. The room snickered, and Madame smiled.  
  
"I'm afraid that's a bit too far gone for even the best miracle worker to contact."  
  
The hall erupted with various cat calls, whistles, and laughter.  
  
"Anyway," the Madame continued. "Do we have any real requests?"  
  
"How about my great grandfather?" Laura Bronson called out. He had just died recently, and was rumored to be the oldest person in the state of Maine, besides Mrs. Kurzbacher.  
  
Madame pulled out her crystal ball and studied it for a moment, apparently seeing something very interesting within it's depths. A moment later, she closed her eyes, and placed her hands on her forehead.  
  
"I'm getting a message." she stated. "Roland. is that you?" She paused for effect, then continued. "He tells us that he keeps the letters to his old flame under the bed beneath the old floorboard. And his old philosophy book." she paused again, and the entire room leaned forward in anticipation.  
  
"His old philosophy book. held more than ideas."  
  
"More than ideas?" Laura repeated, uncomprehending. Hawkeye struggled not to laugh.  
  
"Whiskey, my child!" Madame shouted with a jolt, slightly annoyed. "The book held whiskey!"  
  
Hawkeye was wracking with laughter, silently clutching at his stomach, and wheezing with the effort. The rest of the room was in a silenced awe; nobody was really sure what to say. Only one person did, and his mouth was being covered by someone else who knew what he was thinking, and was doubled over herself.  
  
On the ride home.  
  
"I knew that all along," Hawkeye said, chuckling. "And it's what got him killed. He'd probably live forever if the booze weren't a factor. I always threatened to tell someone about that book, but I never did."  
  
"So you're the only one who knew??"  
  
"Well, up until Mrs. Kurzbacher did her lookaround. that's why she gets the job of psychic every year.she knows everything about everyone. Mainly because she's old enough to have seen everything within the past hundred years, but also because she just loves to gossip."  
  
Margaret cracked up again, and silently vowed to someday understand the ways of this one of a kind town.  
  
Christmas Eve  
  
It had been three months since that day. Now, as the snow drifted peacefully to the ground outside Hawkeye's bedroom window, Margaret didn't really feel any more at home than she had when she first arrived. Oh sure, she had friends, and she had been accepted, but it just didn't feel like home.  
  
She heard a jingling coming closer from down the hall, and Hawkeye appeared a moment later, dressed head to toe in a holiday outfit so comical she had to laugh. Even now, two and a half years after she had left the service, laughter still seemed strange coming out of her. On the other hand, she thought to herself as she stood up, she laughed constantly around this nut, so she might as well get used to it.  
  
Hawkeye was head to toe in green and red. and not the kind of green in the army either, but vibrant, Christmasey green. Long Santa hat that reached down to his knees, and the classic shoes that curled at the toes; twinkling eyes and rosier than usual cheeks, he was the perfect elfie appearance.  
  
"Ready, milady?" he asked, offering his elbow. She took it, and they walked out the door again. When they reached Daniel Pierce's house, which consequently was right down the street, Margaret was amazed at the holiday essence the house had taken on. The snow in the front yard had been constructed into numerous snowmen, all different shapes and people. Lights were strung all through the bushes and trees, which Margaret and Hawkeye had fought with a whole afternoon a week before. Now, looking back on that day, Margaret could see that it was so plainly worth every minute, even though she had nearly fallen off the ladder laughing when Hawkeye had tangled himself in the lights, imprisoned in an array of colored bulbs. He had seemed mildly less than amused when Margaret suggested they leave him there as a new decoration.  
  
"I still think we should left you there," she commented as they walked the shoveled pathway to the house. Hawkeye rolled his eyes and nudged Margaret playfully, before opening the door.  
  
The smell of fresh baked gingerbread, eggnog, and pine overwhelmed the two of them as they stepped inside and took off overcoats.  
  
Daniel bounced out from somewhere, and hugged his son, and then Margaret, plunking a red hat on her head, and offering them both some eggnog. They took it, and watched him bounce around his girlfriend, Annie, with a boyish glee Margaret only recognized in Hawkeye. When she turned around again though, Hawkeye had disappeared somewhere again, as he had the tendency to do. That was the one trouble with Crab Apple Cove and Hawkeye; there were so many places to disappear to, and he always seemed to be in one of them.  
  
She sighed, and went off to find her friends, who were sitting on a couch next to the overstuffed chair Daniel usually sat in. She plunked down into it, and soon she was laughing along with everyone on the latest town gossip.  
  
A few minutes later, someone, dressed in full Santa garb, walked into the living room, resulting in the instant squeal of every child present. Margaret moved from her seat to allow "Santa" to sit, trying desperately not to laugh as she saw whose blue eyes sparkled from beneath layers of cotton. He looked exactly the same as he had that first year in Korea, when he had disappeared to the front in the same type outfit to rescue wounded. That had also been the first time she had been kissed by him. He really is great kisser. Wait a minute. what am I saying?? She asked herself. Aw, what the hell. It's Christmas. I'll just avoid the mistletoe.  
  
She watched him contentedly as he picked up each child and talked to them, in a voice much deeper than his own. And each child received a present, unique and specified to their taste. He treated each child uniquely too, as he treated everyone he met; remembering that they were all individuals, with certain needs, and tastes. And he plyed to it. Which is not something you find very rarely in a doctor, she told herself, and wondered for the thousandth time why she mentally defended him, as though she were fighting herself inwardly on whether or not she could be friends with him. Sometimes it really was crowded inside her.  
  
Soon, the children had all received their gifts, but the sack Hawkeye had come in with was still very full, and he started to call out the names of the adults at the party, who found it profusely hilarious to watch as each person sat on Hawkeye's lap in order to receive their gift. Margaret laughed along with them, until she found herself grabbed around the waist by "Santa" and pulled down on top of him. Whistles and catcalls burst out from everyone present, as the relationship between Hawkeye and Margaret was the most talked about, mysterious one of all time. Everyone supported it, but nobody in all of Crab Apple Cove short of Hawkeye, Margaret, and Daniel Pierce knew the true nature of the relationship, and even if they did know they were friends, no one would believe it, because everyone saw at least one of the anniversary kisses, and they didn't know what that was all about either.  
  
"And what do you want for Christmas, miss?" Hawkeye asked, eyes dancing once again.  
  
"To get at you without this on," Margaret replied, attempting a jab on Hawkeye's rib, the pressure point she had discovered a few months before, but it was blocked by the pillows. "And not like that!" she added, knowing that everyone in the room took it to mean. well, something else.  
  
Hawkeye laughed, and handed her a box after he got up from the chair and announced that he needed to be going.  
  
A few minutes later he reappeared in his.well, the clothes he wore when he got there. The party resumed again as it did every year, with the exception that everyone there seemed to be trying to booby trap Hawkeye and Margaret under the mistletoe.  
  
Later that night  
  
Margaret sat on the edge of her bed, with Hawkeye's gift in hand, wondering what would be in such an oddly shaped package. She opened it, and didn't know whether to laugh or cry when she saw the Japanese scotch. She picked up the note that had fallen out when she had opened the package, and read in Hawkeye's scrawling handwriting.  
  
Merry Christmas, Margaret. I looked for months for this, because I think it symbolizes the beginning of our friendship.  
  
We've gone through a lot together, and I think we're going to go through a lot more, so I wanted to tell you now that you mean the world and beyond to me. Just in case I get too drunk to tell you that next time I should, remember this before you sock me.  
  
So here's my proposition, and don't think I'm crazy. I know you've sworn off men, but since I've always been a schmo to you, I don't think I count. I propose, (pun intended) that if we are both still single by the time we hit 70, we get married to each other, even if it's just for convenience. On second thought, make it 80, just to be on the safe side.  
  
I know I've got a lot to be thankful for, but having you to go through life is something that seems to need extra mentioning. Thank you, Darlene.  
  
Margaret stared at the letter for a very long time, with a strange smile on her face. Then she went to her dresser and pulled out a piece of paper, and scribbled a note back.  
  
When Hawkeye woke up on Christmas morning, he saw a note propped up against a glass of Japanese scotch.  
  
  
  
Well, the least you can do if you're serious is get a ring. That way I know you're serious. And thank you, Hank.  
  
End of part 1  
  
  
  
Margaret sat on the edge of her bed, ten years later, reading that very same note. Hawkeye had no idea how right he had been when he wrote that. They went through everything together. They laughed together, cried together, and kicked each other's asses when they needed it. And then there were always those kisses, which had not even begun to mellow with age. Every year she expected that the kiss would have somehow familiarized itself; and that it would just be comfortable. And each year her feet grew roots, and her entire body melted into him, tingling all the while.  
  
She was finally comfortable here. It had not taken too long, Hawkeye had commented. Just a decade or so. He had convinced her in the end that she was finally home.  
  
"You just don't know what home is yet," he told her. "You've spent your whole life moving from place to place. You're just not familiar with that feeling of being safe and sound in somewhere for a prolonged period of time. And you're afraid to meet anyone and get to close to them because you still think you're going to have to leave them, and you don't want to deal with that." She had looked at him with eyebrow raised and head cocked to the side, and he had smiled sheepishly and admitted to calling Sidney. She had chucked a pillow at him, and the pillow war that coincided lasted a good 45 minutes.  
  
She put the note back into a box she kept buried deep in the closet with other memories and wandered downstairs, hoping he was still home, and hadn't left for his shift at the hospital yet.  
  
He had already gone, but the little Jack Russell Terrier she had presented him with three years ago rested comfortable on the kitchen table on top of the newspaper Hawkeye had abandoned earlier. His head popped up when she walked in, and his little tail waggled with pleasure.  
  
"Hi Tuttle," Margaret said, scratching him behind the ears in his favorite spot. "You know you're not supposed to be up there." He continued to regard her with chocolate brown eyes, and she relented. "All right, I guess just this once. I feel like being bad today too, you know?"  
  
Tuttle barked once and his tail wriggled more rapidly.  
  
Margaret chuckled. "I guess you do." She went into the refrigerator and pulled out the cheesecake she didn't mean to keep buying, and went to pour some coffee.  
  
Plate and mug in hand, she sat down at the kitchen table again, and pulled the newspaper out from under Tuttle. He gave something between a squeak and a growl to show his displeasement, but quickly jumped down onto Margaret's lap and curled up again, with a bit of a snort before he fell back to sleep.  
  
She saw instantly why Hawkeye had not read it. She knew he hadn't because he always left it open or crumpled, and today it was still neat and folded. The headlines read in big bold letters : WAR IN VIETNAM RAGES ON. It was the same story as every other day. Welcome to 1965. war, the protests of the war. Hawkeye had certainly protested the Korean War, but his protests consisted more of showing up for roll call in his robe and jockey shorts, (a habit had not been just to spite the army, she later found out. He was always that sloppy.) running her underwear up the flagpole, and getting drunk at every possible interval. But the kinds of protests they read of were something that even Hawkeye disagreed on.  
  
Margaret sighed and put the paper into the recycling bin unread and got up to wander the house with her coffee. Snow had started to fall outside, so she curled up in front of the picture window to watch, wrapped cocoon-like in the blanket she had knitted a lifetime ago in Korea. An hour later Hawkeye walked through the door and found her still there, curled into a ball and snoring lightly.  
  
It had been a busy day; the flus were at their worst, and the roads and sidewalks were slippery- a lot of people were coming in for patchwork. Not that any of this was particularly strenuous, but the dreams had been abundant lately. He hadn't slept in weeks.  
  
Hawkeye lit a fire and collapsed on the couch, smiling as Tuttle got up and repositioned himself so he was right between Hawkeye and Margaret. Back end pressed against Margaret's foot, head propped up on Hawkeye's leg, Tuttle gave a sort of satisfied sigh and closed his eyes. Hawkeye followed suit, and slid, for once, into peaceful dreamless sleep.  
  
When he woke up a few hours later, a savory aroma had enveloped him, and the radio was wafting out "Chances Are" through the door.  
  
Inhaling deeply, Hawkeye stood and walked into the kitchen, where Margaret was checking on peering through the oven door to check on dinner. When she had closed the door again, Margaret found herself being twirled around, and in the arms of the tall, dark, and handsome.  
  
Hawkeye slowdanced her around the kitchen, singing along softly with the radio with his deep, rich voice as he went. "In the magic of moonlight, when I sigh hold me close dear. Chances are you believe the stars that fill the skies are in my eyes. Guess you feel you'll always be, the one and only one for me, and if you think you could. Well chances are your chances are. awfully good."  
  
He dipped her and pulled her back up slowly, eying her with blazing yet kind scrutiny. She put her head against his chest, listening to his heart as they danced junior high style-his arms around her waist, hers around his neck.  
  
And they danced, not quite sure if they were dancing as a couple or just friends that felt safe and warm in each others arms, forgetting the world around them for a time; just being.  
  
They ate dinner by candlelight that night, on a whim. It didn't seem right at the table, so they picnicked by firelight, laughing and talking long into the night. When they finally decided to go to bed, they hugged impulsively, feeling closer than they had in a very long time.  
  
Hawkeye tossed and turned in his bed, moaning incoherently and thrashing limbs every which way.  
  
Margaret heard it again from down the hall, like she did every other night, and jumped from the bed, stubbing her toes and cursing as she fumbled with the door and limp-ran down the hall.  
  
She almost choked up and froze when she opened his door and saw him. It was worse than it had ever been. His sheets and blankets were scattered around the floor, and he still fought physically with mental images.  
  
"Hawkeye!" she said urgently, rushing to the bedside and shaking him. Still caught in dream, Hawkeye reacted with flying fist, sending Margaret reeling as she received a blow to the cheekbone. Crying out, Margaret grabbed for the injury, but recovered quickly enough to shake him again. She caught the wrists that sported clenched hands, and held them firmly until eyes dark with panic snapped open. He was drenched in cold sweat.  
  
It took a moment for his eyes top focus on Margaret's stricken face; hands still clutching desperately to fists. His breath came in short gasps as he relaxed his arms and Margaret sat down, pulling him up to the flat of her chest and cradling his head with the crook of her arm. He tried to surrender himself to that; her fuzzy pink bathrobe and sweet musky perfume, and he started to breathe more normally.  
  
"What was this one about?" Margaret asked gently, allowing him to sag back into the pillows.  
  
"The usual. Screaming, blood, BJ laying on the table, we're out of blood, and you and Colonel Potter just have this dazed look on your faces." Hawkeye shuddered with his eyes closed, but opened them again a moment later with his brow furrowed. "What happened to you?" He reached up and touched the side of her face, where a large bruise already glowed bright purple.  
  
"You happened to me. Not only do you sleep walk, but I think even Father Mulcahy would be impressed by your nocturnal boxing skills."  
  
Hawkeye's jaw dropped in horror and he sat bolt upright. "Oh Margaret, I-" Margaret stopped him and shrugged. "It happens. I owe you one. Next time you tick me off I reserve the right to deck you."  
  
"Sounds fair." Hawkeye paused, trying to think of something to say. "Uhhhh."  
  
"Well, since I don't think we're going to get much more sleep, and it's morning. almost," Margaret said, covering the silence. "Why don't we go out for breakfast before I go to my shift?"  
  
"I have a better idea," Hawkeye answered, jumping out of bed. "Why don't you go crawl back into bed and I'll make breakfast?"  
  
"You cook?"  
  
"Yes. you didn't know?"  
  
"No! In ten years, I've never seen you do more than put in a piece of toast!"  
  
Hawkeye shrugged. "Hey, I said I could cook, I didn't say I liked it."  
  
"Why you little-making me do all the cooking when you could have done it all the time!! Why I oughta-"  
  
Hawkeye cut her off by pressing her forehead with one finger in that one spot and forcing her back onto the bed, avoiding the pillow that came hurdling his way as he scrambled out the door.  
  
Humming Christmas carols as he went along, Hawkeye cooked bacon, toast, and eggs, and returned the bedroom toting them on a tray.  
  
"From now on, you do all the cooking," Margaret decided aloud between mouthfuls.  
  
"No no no," Hawkeye replied, popping another strip of bacon into his mouth. "I was lucky this time. Usually I burn my finger, knock things over and curse up a storm. I didn't fully escape today." He stuck out his hand to show a bandage on his index finger.  
  
" Awwww," Margaret sympathized. She glanced at the clock on the bedside as she had the tendency to do, and jumped out of bed, brushing crumbs from her hands. "Would you get the paper for me? I've got a shift in about half an hour."  
  
"No you don't. The roads are frozen, and the hospital's empty now too. Everyone's at home with the flu. Plus we already have two feet of heavy snow."  
  
"Oh," Margaret said, shrugging. "In that case, I'm going in to take a shower. Will you get the paper for me?"  
  
"Oh, very nice. You'd have me freeze out there to get you the paper while you're all nice and warm??"  
  
"Yup."  
  
Hawkeye went to the door and pulled it open, cursing the icy blast he knew all too well. Korea had ensured he knew the wrath of Mother Nature. He stooped to pick up the paper, and paused when he noticed another lump of snow where the newspaper was. It was half buried in the snow, and looked like a tattered old basket. Hawkeye brushed away the snow, and gasped. "Oh my God." He picked up the basket as gently and quickly as he could, and rushed back into the house.  
  
"Margaret!" he called in an almost panicked tone. Margaret picked up on that tone and rushed from the bathroom in her robe, dripping wet.  
  
"What's the matter?" she asked. Hawkeye put the basket on the table. "Oh my God."  
  
Doc Potter had lived up to his retirement quite well. He had worked in an army hospital for awhile, but now he was perfectly happy to be old Doc Potter and Grandpa. Maybe it was because he was older now. 73 as of March 25 next year. But right now age was of the essence, and life was the last thing on Sherman's mind as he shot down the hill at full speed on a sled with his second grandson. Both yelled as they sped along, racing to keep up with Abby and Lilly, Potter's daughter and granddaughter.  
  
"Whoa!!!" they both yelled in unison as the sled hit something and tossed them off, landing in the soft snow.  
  
Laughing wildly, both Sherman and Joshua got to their feet brushing snow from each other, and trucked the sled back up the hill again.  
  
"Are you two having fun?" Mildred asked pleasantly when they reached the top of the hill again.  
  
"Yeah!!!" Joshua shouted, jumping up and down in his apparent delight. "Again again!"  
  
"Ok, buckaroo, one more time, and then we go in for Grandma's hot chocolate. Deal?"  
  
"Yum! Hot chocolate!!" The five year old paused, looking back and forth between grandparents. "Gramma come too!"  
  
Mildred backed up, bundling herself tighter in her overcoat. "No no, Grandma hasn't sledded in twenty years."  
  
"Then you're long overdue!!" Potter exclaimed, grabbing her by the waist. Spry as ever, he hefted her onto the back of the sled and put Joshua between them. "Sherman Theodore Potter! Don't you--- Weeee!!!"  
  
Max Klinger pulled in the driveway of his brand new apartment with his new car and walked inside to give his wife a kiss on the cheek.  
  
"How was your day?" she asked in a voice that still lilted sweetly.  
  
"Fine-ow!!" he rubbed where she had pinched him for stealing a cookie she had baked for later.  
  
"And I wonder where Kim gets it."  
  
"Where is the little devil?"  
  
"In her room, constructing."  
  
Klinger chuckled, and moved on to his daughter's room, where he was immediately confronted with a room full of creations shaped from tinker toys and blocks, laid out virtually everywhere.  
  
"Nice work, kiddo."  
  
"Thanks dad, but it's not finished yet."  
  
"Well, get cleaned up, supper's almost ready."  
  
"Yessir."  
  
Klinger chuckled, and walked back out to his wife, who was humming to herself as she finished setting the table. "Have I told you lately how beautiful you are?"  
  
"Have I told you lately what a sweet talker you are?"  
  
"Many times, sweetheart."  
  
"It rings true today as it did 13 years ago."  
  
"Hmmmm."  
  
"What are you thinking?"  
  
"What makes you think I'm thinking?"  
  
"I smell smoke."  
  
"That's dinner."  
  
Soon Lee smacked her crazy husband upside the head again, giggling. "No, no. come on. What were you thinking?"  
  
"About what you said the other day. About how you feel caged here?"  
  
"Oh. you can't take everything I say seriously. I was just aggravated."  
  
"No," Klinger said, shaking his head. "I've seen you aggravated. Aggravated usually doesn't involve a plate being chucked at my head."  
  
Soon Lee smiled sheepishly, and Klinger continued. "So I was thinking. Maybe you're right. This was a great place for me to grow up, but it's not for everybody. So, let's move!"  
  
Soon Lee sat down. "Move? Where?"  
  
"I called BJ the other day. He said there were a lot of houses nearby that were cheap, available, and with a lot of open space."  
  
"And you would leave here, where you grew up, for me?"  
  
"Honey, for you, I'd live on the moon."  
  
"Beeeeee--- jaaaaaaaayyyy!!!" Peg called from the deck. "Telephone!"  
  
BJ stopped the swing carrying his giggling daughter and walked to the door, accepting the phone as he walked into kitchen.  
  
"BJ?"  
  
"Klinger! Hi! How's it going?!"  
  
"Fine sir! I've decided to take you up on your offer!"  
  
"You mean-oh wow!! That's great! When?"  
  
"About a month."  
  
Together they schemed for about an hour, figuring out exactly what they were going to do. By the time BJ hung up, Klinger was going to spend some time in the spare rooms of the Hunnicutt's ranch while he and Soon Lee looked, and exactly where the best places were to look.  
  
BJ got off the phone with his enormous cheesy grin shining full blast as he danced around the kitchen. Peg ignored him and continued to was dishes.  
  
"Peg?" The hands continued to wash. BJ walked up behind her and nudged, as he did every time she held something back. She ignored and walked to the cabinet to put a glass away, ignoring persistant nudges from her good intentioned husband.  
  
"What's the matter?"  
  
"Nothing," she answered in a monotone, returning to the dishes. BJ leaned his arms on top of her shoulders, and she shook him off. He smooched the back of her neck and played with her hair. "Come on, you can't keep anything from me, you should know that by now!!"  
  
"With Erin you noticed right away," she grumbled.  
  
"Talking in riddles, my dear?"  
  
"Hmph."  
  
"With Erin, I-I'm stumped, my queen."  
  
Peg spun around and glared at him, then took his hand and put it onto her stomach.  
  
"You mean-"  
  
Peg nodded, and BJ let out another whoop of joy, spun her around and danced her through the house, drawing giggles from the woman who had been so angry at him a moment before. Life is good.  
  
**end of chapter four** Yes, there will be more!!  
  
Yes, I know the chapter is WAAYYYY shorter than the others, but there will be more, and it makes a good cliffhanger. what am I talking about?? You'll see..  
  
"Where did she come from?" Margaret asked, gently lifting the half frozen child from within the shabby basket.  
  
Hawkeye skidded back into the kitchen with socked feet and thrust his med bag open. "Call Dad!!" he barked in a tone that he so very rarely used.  
  
Margaret ran to obey, suddenly back in Korea, jumping at the sound of his voice, knowing the hesitation would cost a life. She spun the number and held the phone to Hawkeye's ear as he followed instructions from his father.  
  
Hours later..  
  
The child was asleep and cocooned within every blanket in the house.  
  
"Will she be ok?"  
  
Hawkeye sighed deeply and collapsed into a chair at the kitchen table, accepting the coffee Margaret placed in front of him and muttering to himself. "I haven't had a session like that since Korea." Then his gaze returned to Margaret, and what she had said reached him. "She should. It doesn't seem like the mother was on drugs, so she was probably just left on a fairly warm looking doorstep because her mother couldn't take care of her." Margaret let a long sigh escape from her nose and looked down into her brew. Then she looked back up and smiled. "Do you realize we just had a baby?"  
  
Margaret found out what Hawkeye had known for a very long time a day and a half later. The people of Crab Apple Cove lived for children.  
  
Party after party was held in Lydia, as she had since been christened, honor, and during that time Margaret's small house had become a baby's boutique, filled with every imaginable clothing, toy, and necessity any baby could ever dream of.  
  
Hawkeye was over tonight, come to see the princess, as she had been dubbed. At the moment, her majesty was being rocked to sleep.  
  
"She's been crying all day," Margaret said, coming into the nursery (the room where most of the baby things had been stashed). "How did you get her to go to sleep like that?"  
  
Hawkeye smiled and stood up from the chair, stretching and walking to the cradle. "Family secret. The men in mine have had that talent for ages. Must be the deep voices and the way we rock." He placed Lydia into the cradle and stood back for a moment to make sure she was truly asleep. Margaret came up next to him and watched, then started to fall asleep on her feet.  
  
"I wonder if the talent works on sleepy mommies, too," Hawkeye mused, turning away from the cradle and scooping Margaret up into his arms.  
  
Too tired to argue, Margaret let herself curl into a ball in his arms, and he carried her to her room and lay her down on the bed. Humming lullabies, Hawkeye pulled up the comforter and turned out the lamp before walking quietly out the door to go make supper.  
  
"I thought you didn't cook," Margaret commented as she stumbled into the kitchen an hour later. Hawkeye looked up from the pan he was at that moment using to sauté chicken in and grinned. "Welcome back to the world of the living, Sleeping Beauty. And this isn't cooking. I'm not quite sure what it is, but if it were cooking, and it were me, something would be on fire."  
  
Margaret smiled and disappeared into the refrigerator for Lydia's formula. "You always say that, but nothing ever goes up in smoke."  
  
"That's because I don't cook."  
  
"I'm not going to win this one, am I?"  
  
"Nope."  
  
"That's what you think."  
  
She reemerged, and stepped back in surprise at the uncharacteristic look of thoughtfulness that was on Hawkeye's face.  
  
"What?"  
  
"What what?"  
  
"You're thinking about something."  
  
"How can you tell?"  
  
"I smell smoke."  
  
"That's dinner."  
  
"Ah HA!!" she exclaimed, making Hawkeye jump. "You admit it!!"  
  
"What do I admit?"  
  
"You are cooking, my sweet! You know the old adage, where there's smoke, there's fire! I win!"  
  
Hawkeye turned around to face her. "You scare me sometimes, you know that?" Margaret just smiled evilly, and went on preparing dinner.  
  
A few months later..  
  
"Whose bathtime is it?" Margaret asked the gurgling 6 month old. She lifted her up from the highchair and bounced her into the bathroom.  
  
"You know, the food should go in your mouth, not on your shirt," Margaret commented as she pulled off the spinach stained shirt and plunked Lydia down into the soapy filled sink. Lydia shrieked with delight, and instantly began her nightly ritual of soaking Margaret. Margaret laughed easily, and wondered how many more nights she would have of this. Hawkeye had been going down to the lawyer's office a lot lately, and all she knew was that it was about where Lydia was going to go. She didn't want to lose somebody she had begun to love.  
  
A few minutes later, there was a crash as a door slammed shut and a resounding "Yaaa-hoooo!!"  
  
Margaret and the baby jumped an inch into the air, and watched as the seemingly insane danced into the room and scooped Margaret to her feet, twirling her and lindying her through the room. "You and me and the baby makes threeeee!!" he laughed in his goofiest voice.  
  
"What are you talking about?" Margaret asked breathlessly.  
  
"We got her we got her!" Hawkeye sang out.  
  
"In English!"  
  
Hawkeye shook his head. "Why do you think I've been at the lawyer's forever? Burying myself in paperwork every night? Margaret, I adopted her! She's ours, forever and ever!!" Margaret's jaw dropped, and Hawkeye grinned and began to bounce around again.  
  
"You mean. she's really ours?" Margaret repeated, flabbergasted.  
  
Hawkeye stopped bouncing. "My dear, I am a cad. I am not trustworthy. But I would never joke about something like this!!"  
  
2 years later.  
  
"Tea Time!!" Margaret called, coming into the newly decorated playroom with tray of cookies and lemonade in hand. A small creature from within one of Klinger's old hats, specifically the light purple number with matching boa, bounced around the room with teddy bear. At the sound of food, Lydia stopped her own version of waltzing and plopped down at the table.  
  
"Mmmmmm. what kind?" she asked, surveying the cookies.  
  
"Klinger certainly has been generous with the clothes he sends. You must have everything from Dame May Whitty to Scarlett O'Hara here. And we're having Chocolate chip marshmallow of course!!" Margaret replied, wrapping a bright pink boa that had been coiled on the back of a chair around her neck.  
  
"Would she deny you the right to get as messy as humanly possible?" a deep voice from the doorway interjected. Margaret turned around to see Hawkeye's tall lean figure standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame. "Am I late for tea time?"  
  
"Not at all!" she answered as he plunked down in another chair and helped himself to a cookie.  
  
"Hawkeeeeeeeee.!!" Lydia giggled, getting up and snatching the cookie away. "No eating until you got formals clothies on!!"  
  
"Oh, how silly of me. Being this a classy four star restaurant and all," Hawkeye replied mischievously. Lydia disappeared and returned a moment later with Klinger's cherry hat in one hand, and the long cape with the rose on it trailing on the ground behind her.  
  
"Oh, how lovely I look!" Hawkeye commented once adorned.  
  
"Agreed," Margaret replied. The phone chose that moment to ring, so she got up and wrapped the boa she had been wearing around her neck playfully around Hawkeye's neck. "Oh I can't tell you how much that means to me."  
  
She laughed, and then went to answer the phone. A few minutes later she returned looking happy yet shocked.  
  
"Whassa matta?" Hawkeye asked through the cookie that had just been placed into his mouth by a giggling toddler.  
  
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."  
  
"Sure I would."  
  
"No, you wouldn't. I don't believe it, and I just heard it."  
  
"Come on!"  
  
"Charles."  
  
"An unbelievable guy, for sure, but I lived with the man long enough to expect the unexpected."  
  
"He's getting married."  
  
Hawkeye choked and tried to swallow. "WHAT?!?!"  
  
Margaret shook her head. "I don't know, but I'm going to find out."  
  
"How?"  
  
"Where's Klinger's number? I need my chief snoop."  
  
PART 6  
  
"Honest ma'am, I don't know a thing!" Klinger's voice insisted over the phone.  
  
"Come on Klinger, you're my chief snitch! I can always count on you!"  
  
"Major, I'm as confused as you are! But Major Winchester wouldn't tell me a thing! Just the date and time, sounding sorta goofy! I was almost sick over the phone!"  
  
"Yeah," Margaret agreed thoughtfully. "I'll call BJ and Peg. She's usually good with the dirt.  
  
But Peg couldn't help too much either. "I haven't got a clue!" she exclaimed over three children. "I guess we'll all have to find out what's going on when we get there!"  
  
Margaret sighed as she hung up the phone and plunked down into the chair. Hawkeye came in a moment later with two large valises. "Anything else, Cleopatra?" he asked, plopping them to the ground and collapsing into a chair. "Perhaps you'd like me to carry you on a chair with four or five slaves fanning you and feeding you grapes?"  
  
"Well, a woman needs a lot more than a man does. Makeup, dresses, curlers. all you need is a crummy old suit!"  
  
"And a truss, at the rate you're going!"  
  
Margaret sighed dramatically and stood up, hefting both bags into her arms and walking out the door. "You're pitiful, you know that?" she called, loading the bags into the back of the truck.  
  
"I'm a surgeon, not a slave laborer."  
  
"Goody for you."  
  
When they reached the Boston Hotel, both were laughing hysterically at what the other had said or done. Margaret was bent double over laughing, and Hawkeye was looking rather amused himself with his hair plastered down over his head because of the apple juice Margaret had poured over him midway through his chorus of 99 bottles of beer on the wall.  
  
Later that afternoon they met in the main lobby, where they met Colonel Potter, still spry as ever, if slightly more wrinkly, and the lovely Mildred. Soon after that they saw Soon Lee, followed by Klinger with two more children in tow. The surprise came a few minutes later when Peggy showed up with not 3 but four children on hand, and BJ following behind. Once the crowd had gathered, they all moved into the resturant and sat down, beginning to chat idly and wonder amongst themselves where the guests of honor were.  
  
At last, the couple made their entrance, arm linked in arm, Charles looking profoundly happy, and a short, red headed woman giggling at something he had just said. As they approached the table, the entire party of 4077th veterans stood up and applauded. The two lovebirds looked at each other, and took a bow.  
  
Later that evening, the party was regaled with the tale of how the two reunited after the war. Charles supplied the end of the story where he ran to and from her, unsure if his family would accept her, or more importantly, if he could learn to live with her free spirit. Martine supplied the end of the story where she was in love but depressed, knowing somehow they would work it out if Charles would "Get down off 'ees 'igh 'orse and let go of hees background." Hawkeye and BJ nodded vigorously at that, remembering how close he was to his family and how he resented it so. And how it drove them crazy.  
  
"So how did you ever get him to leave his family?" Margaret asked, leaning on her hands and elbows on the table.  
  
"It took a lot of time, a few threats, and a cold November evening," Martine explained mysteriously.  
  
The table ooohed and leaned in closer for the story.  
  
Chilly November winds whipped through his coat as he made his way through the gates of his house. It had been a bad day, and the drizzly greyness of the day only illuminated the issue. As he stepped into the house, Hans was, of course, there to remove his coat and greet him. A small Maltese then made his entrance, wriggling from head to toe as he greeted.  
  
"Hello Xavier." Charles picked up the tiny creature and held him to his face, showing the few moments when there was compassion in his actions. Hans smiled softly to himself as he informed Charles of company.  
  
"All right, tell him I'll be right there," Charles instructed as he walked up the stairs to his room. Hans merely bowed, not bothering to correct his employer's error. 20 minutes later, he came back down, refreshed and changed into fairly comfortable evening clothes. As he stepped into the receiving room, he was greeted with a familiar perfume, that both made his heart leap to his throat and fall through the floor at the same time. She stood up and walked over to him as he closed the door behind him. When she reached him, she smacked him smartly across the face. He rubbed at the red mark. "What was that for?"  
  
"For leaving me."  
  
He nodded slowly, realizing how just the smack was. Then she stood on tiptoes and kissed him soundly. When she pulled away, he looked at her dumbfounded. "What was that for?"  
  
"For loving me."  
  
They all sighed, and Peg was the first one to speak up. "That was one of the romantic things I have ever heard." Margaret nodded in agreement. "Honestly and truly."  
  
A few hours later.  
  
They stayed up and talked about everything there was to talk about, and for a few minutes remained in uncomfortable silence. Then Margaret piped up again. "Well Hawkeye, now's as good a time as any."  
  
Hawkeye looked at her innocently. "For what?"  
  
"Come on, you know you brought them."  
  
"They were supposed to be for the bachelor's party tomorrow night."  
  
"What, so the ladies don't get to have any fun?"  
  
Hawkeye sighed and reached into a bag under the table as the final desert dishes were cleared away. "Sorry Charles. I know this was supposed to be a high class ritzy thing, but I lost a bet on the drive over, and it resulted in this." He poured the poker chips out onto the table, and everyone laughed.  
  
  
  
A few hours later.  
  
After everyone's pocket weight had substantially fluctuated, Margaret stood up and stretched. "Well, I'm going to take the plunge and hit the sack. Where's my room?"  
  
"You mean, you didn't go to it before you came here?"  
  
"No," Margaret said, turning towards BJ. "Why?"  
  
"Oh, because I took the liberty of signing you and Hawkeye in as Mr. And Mrs. Pierce. Sort of my little April Fool's joke a week early."  
  
"You did WHAT???" This voice was from Hawkeye, who was standing up to go to bed as well.  
  
"I know, I know, I'm evil. Genius, admittedly, but-"  
  
"Oh, I hate you for this, you know that don't you?"  
  
"Yeah. Great, isn't it?"  
  
"OK, let's make the best of this." Margaret unlocked the door and stepped into the room.  
  
"My sentiments exactly. Let us not dwell upon this moment of-ooch!! Do you really have to hit me?"  
  
"Yes, I really do. You want the couch?"  
  
"Not really."  
  
"It's that or the bathtub."  
  
"I think I'll take the couch."  
  
"What a plan. But first, did you bring any food? I can't stand that rich stuff downstairs anymore. I'm trained for frozen pizza, and that light gooey fluff just didn't do it."  
  
"I know what you mean. I don't know how Charles survives on the stuff."  
  
"Did you bring anything?"  
  
"Would I ever let you down? I've got some snack food in my duffle. If I can find the bedroom in this place, I'll get it."  
  
"I'll meet you in the Master Suite?"  
  
"It's a date."  
  
"Get the food, already. I get grumpy when I'm hungry."  
  
"You must have been hungry for a very long time."  
  
"Go or die."  
  
"Going."  
  
"It's too quiet in here!" Hawkeye called as he came back the living room with a tray full of snack food.  
  
"It was just fine, thank you very much," Margaret called back from the couch.  
  
"You've softened my dear," Hawkeye commented as he set the tray down and plunked onto the couch. "You used to be able to deal with choppers, PA announcements-"  
  
"Hey, I still deal with you most of the time, don't I?"  
  
"I'm not complaining! In all honesty, I prefer you this way."  
  
"Aww, how sweet."  
  
"I'm just a sweet sort of guy."  
  
Margaret snorted. "No you're not, but thanks anyway."  
  
"Watch it madam."  
  
"I outrank you."  
  
"Hmph."  
  
Margaret grabbed a handful of popcorn and chucked it at Hawkeye, who blocked it with a pillow and then shook his head balefully to rid himself of the kernels.  
  
"I'll get you for that," he promised. "When you least expect it."  
  
"Yeah yeah," Margaret answered dismissively.  
  
Hawkeye disappeared into the cabinet and pulled out a bottle of champagne and strawberries and put them in front of her. "Try these."  
  
"Why the strawberries?"  
  
"Enhances the flavor of the champagne."  
  
"How'd you know that?"  
  
"I'm not completely neathandral, you know."  
  
"Sure."  
  
"What's the last thing you would expect right now?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"The absolute last thing running through your thoughts."  
  
"That Charles is about to burst through the front door and start dancing the can can."  
  
"Oh. Well, that's close enough." Hawkeye glanced at her sideways and then tickle tackled her. She screeched, and they thumped to the ground, Hawkeye just managing to push himself up on his elbows to avoid crushing her.  
  
She looked on into his eyes, undaunted by war, and he looked back at her, not laughing anymore. Then he leaned down and touched his lips to hers lightly. She responded by kissing back a little harder, and pushing herself up a little so she could reach him more easily.  
  
He pulled back, surprising her. "Are you sure?" he whispered, sitting up with her. She looked at him, thinking for a moment. Then she pushed him softly back onto the floor. She bent down over him and put her lips softly to his again and began to undo a shirt button. When she reached the bottom he rolled his shoulders and allowed the shirt to slip off.  
  
He turned, and she lay now, watching as he gently slid strong hands under her shirt and up her back, giving her goosebumps. She pulled her arms up and the shirt slipped off. He caressed her skin and pressed hot kisses down her neck and across her collar bone. He was incredibly gentle, she noticed as well, using only the lightest touches, using butterfly wings as if afraid to break her.  
  
A few minutes later, she shivered under him as he pulled damp locks of hair from her neck and kissed down her shoulder again, hand roaming freely across her back. She moved rhythmically against him, surrendering to a feeling she hadn't known in a long time. His hands moved again, and caressed up and down her outline. He listened to her breath as fiery passion took her again.  
  
After, they lay curled in each other's arms as he stroked her hair.  
  
"Margaret?" he asked, letting a coiling lock slip through his fingertips.  
  
"Hmmmm."  
  
"What's your natural hair color?"  
  
Margaret pulled her head up and rested it on a hand. "What?"  
  
"Your hair."  
  
"Blonde!"  
  
"Margaret, I'm not Frank. I know you didn't cut your head, and nobody's head is naturally that shade!"  
  
Margaret looked guiltily at the hair he had coiled around his fingers. "Reddish brown."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Really."  
  
Hawkeye fell back onto the rug. " You should let it grow out." Margaret sank back to the ground and pillowed her head on her arm. "Maybe someday I will."  
  
Hawkeye woke up first, like he had the last time, and found a tiny figure curled up on him. Her head lay on his chest, and an arm was draped delicately across his neck. The blanket sheltered them from the cold, and the very first rays of sunshine had just started to shine through the window. The clock chimed seven. Underneath the blanket, one of her legs rested on top of his.  
  
When he opened his eyes, Hawkeye glanced down and smiled, remembering. He brushed the hair from her face and kissed her forehead before disentangling himself and going to take a shower.  
  
When he came back, dressed in his robe, Margaret was sitting on the couch, with the blanket pulled around her loosely. He came up quietly behind her and pulled down the edge of the blanket, gently kissing her shoulder, and crawled over the couch to her, never once letting up on her shoulder. His lips traveled up to her back, and he moved her back gently again. She followed along for a moment, letting herself fall into him again. His hands started to open the blanket to reveal her skin again, and her eyes snapped open as she sat bolt upright. Hawkeye flew backwards and looked at her questioningly.  
  
"What are we doing?" she whispered, wide eyed. Hawkeye recovered and sat up, smiling. "The last time I checked, this was-"  
  
"I know what it is," Margaret reproached. She turned away and looked away from him. "But what I meant was, it's not going to work."  
  
"Why not?" Hawkeye asked. "OK, so we know we could never stay together forever, and we know we aren't going to get married until we're both way too old to even think about these kinds of things anymore, but why can't it just be like this?"  
  
"What exactly would this be?"  
  
"It's the undecided column. Not friends, not lovers-" "You really count last night as not being lovers??"  
  
"No, I count last night as two friends who have gone 15 years with a kiss a year and nothing else between them. Last night was very important to us both. I don't want to lose us for that. And I don't want to lose that either."  
  
"But I can't just be a friend and then an occasional sex partner. I can't do that anymore. And I can't just be your friend after this, but I can't lose you either."  
  
"We'll figure it out, ok? I promise. I must say though, I'm actually rather flattered that I was that good that I can't be resisted."  
  
"Hawkeye." Margaret's voice filled with a pain that Hawkeye couldn't distinguish. He didn't know what to say, so he just pulled her to him and rocked her, breathing softly into her hair. He linked his arms around her middle so she was snug, but could get away if she really wanted to. But she wasn't trying to, and that reassured him.  
  
"Are you ok Margaret?" he asked after a few minutes. She didn't answer, but turned around and pulled away from his grasp, then got up. His heart fell into his stomach as he tried to think of some way to apologize. Then he felt her hands on his shoulder slowly creeping down to his chest. She leaned over and kissed him again, and Hawkeye snaked his arms around her waist and pulled her on top of him again. She didn't say a word, but eased down the top of his robe again and let her blanket slip away. Then she made a slow row of kisses down his neck to the middle of his chest again, and then she let her body do the talking. They would find a way. 


	4. Is It Just me 4

As we take an enormous jump ahead in time..  
  
5 years later- Upon reflection, that evening was the last official night of romance between the two of them. When they had returned home, the memory was locked away safely deep within their minds, touched upon only late at night when one lay awake, dreamless. But at this moment, washing the dishes, Margaret looked out the window on this summer's afternoon and thought about it, wondering what had happened, who had backed away, or if it was just because they were both just mutually scared. They both seemed to have committing issues. When the phone rang, Margaret jumped, startled out of her musings.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Hi gorgeous."  
  
"Hey Hawk." He still hadn't stopped with the cracks over time, but she had eventually gotten used to them.  
  
"I have a request from a certain pipsqueak over here to spend the night at my dad's." Margaret smiled into the phone.  
  
"Enjoy. I'll spend the night vegging for a change."  
  
"Nuh uh, my dear. Along with a child free night, you also get a date with a tall handsome doctor."  
  
"I wonder who that could be." Hawkeye snorted into the phone.  
  
"Come on. Dinner, visit to the beach, conversation that stretches beyond kiddie shows?"  
  
Margaret sighed into the receiver, but relented. "All right, seven sound good?"  
  
"You got it."  
  
Margaret sat in front of her large vanity mirror, glaring at her reflection. Her hair had decided to be obnoxiously cruel with her tonight, so she was attempting to give herself the evil eye.  
  
And it wasn't working. She glanced up from her reflection and saw Hawkeye leaning against the door's frame, lopsided smile illuminating his face.  
  
"Nice hair."  
  
"Shut up."  
  
"Need help?"  
  
Margaret raised her eyebrows and turned around. "Since when do you do hair?"  
  
"Since Lydie taught me. Turn around, Medusa, and I shall tame your locks." A few minutes later, Hawkeye had proved that he was not only a fantastic surgeon, but a fair hairdresser as well.  
  
"Not bad."  
  
"If you do say so yourself." Hawkeye rolled his eyes and pulled Margaret to her feet. "Let's go, before my ego is permanently destroyed."  
  
A few hours later.  
  
"You know, we still haven't had that conversation you promised." Hawkeye kicked a shell with his foot as the two of them walked along the beach side. "And I'm really not sure of what to say." Hawkeye looked at her for a moment.  
  
"Just say whatever comes to mind."  
  
"Oh."  
  
She paused for a minute, and looked at her surroundings. The beach was peaceful and serene, Hawkeye had laid out a blanket for them to sit on, and a radio wafted soft music towards them. "It's really pretty here."  
  
"I know, this is where I bring all the girls." Hawkeye shot a mischievous glance towards her, to see what her reaction would be. She sent a menacing glance back in return, and started to stalk away. This coincided with a chase that ended only when Hawkeye finally caught up to her and grabbed her around her waist before jerking her up into his arms. Shrieking and cursing, Hawkeye dragged Margaret to the water's edge and catapulted her in, before falling in himself as she dragged him in with her.  
  
When she came up, spitting salt water, he was nowhere to be seen. Then, from behind her, there was a rumbling voice.  
  
"I don't think I needed that."  
  
She opened her mouth to tell her off, but he covered it with a kiss. She pulled back after a moment and slapped him.  
  
"I hate you!" Then she jumped onto his lips again and fell into his arms. He pulled back a moment and chuckled.  
  
"You hate me, so you kiss me?"  
  
"Shut up! I didn't kiss you!" "Felt like kissing to me!"  
  
"I don't get kissed anymore."  
  
"You need a refresher course."  
  
They dived for each other unanimously this time, and continued to kiss as they walked their way to the shore, stopping only when they collapsed on the blanket. Margaret held herself up by her elbows and yanked his lips away from hers with a pull of his hair. "You are a pompous, incorrigible maniac."  
  
"And you are a self centered, impossible army brat. Now hush."  
  
With that, he pushed her down to the blanket the rest of the way with his chest.  
  
*~*~After a lot of giggling, shrieking and the occasional hyena laugh of Hawkeye later.~*~  
  
Margaret cleared her throat uncomfortably.  
  
"I thought we were going to talk."  
  
"Can I help it if you can't keep your hands off me?"  
  
Margaret harrumphed and pushed Hawkeye's elbows out from under him. He plunked back to the sand as he laughed.  
  
"We can't keep doing this you know."  
  
His clear eyes reflected the clear night sky. "I know."  
  
"Your dad's going to kill us."  
  
Hawkeye grinned. "Dad's been trying to set us up for years."  
  
"Hmmm. Him and the rest of the town."  
  
"We would make sort of a cute couple though."  
  
He turned and wrapped his arms around her clothed again waist and nuzzled his face in her hair. Margaret sighed sadly, and he pulled back.  
  
"You know it wouldn't work."  
  
"How do we know?"  
  
"You're afraid of commitment, and I'm addicted to it."  
  
"It's not exactly easy to resist a tall gorgeous blonde with the ability to go from a butterfly to a fire breathing dragon in thirty seconds flat."  
  
"It's not exactly easy to resist Peter Pan as the tall dark and handsome either."  
  
"Ok, let's make a deal. Let's say that when we're both old and decrepit, we'll get married." Margaret laughed throatily.  
  
"And when do you think that will be?"  
  
"Oh, let's say, about this time, fifteen years from now. I'll propose to you."  
  
"And I'll say yes."  
  
"Good. And in the meantime, maybe we should try it."  
  
"Try what?"  
  
"Become an us."  
  
"Deal. Should we shake on it?"  
  
Hawkeye smiled evilly. "Baby, I'll start however you want to."  
  
About a week later....  
  
Hawkeye bounced up the stairs to his house, feeling profoundly happier than he had in awhile. Lydie was at his dad's again, because Dan had commented teasingly that it was the closest he would ever get to having grandchildren. So the two had the night to themselves again.  
  
Once inside, Hawkeye snuck behind the figure cleaning and attacked her neck, touching the spots he knew drove her crazy.  
  
"Hawkeye, I'm trying to clean."  
  
"And I'm trying to eat," he mumbled into her neck, blowing gently at coiling locks. She started to walk away, but he latched around her waist from behind and took her steps with her.  
  
"Where are you going?"  
  
"To the kitchen."  
  
"What a coincidence. So am I."  
  
He didn't let go and forced her to walk with hindered steps as he continued his battery. She managed to get to the sink to a fill a glass of water.  
  
"Thirsty?"  
  
"No," she replied, and turned the glass upside down on his head.  
  
"Aaaaaaccckkk!!" He shook his head balefully, and responded with his own weaponry, an ice cube down the back of her shirt. Half an hour later, they collapsed on the floor of the kitchen, thoroughly soaked, and giggling uncontrollably.  
  
"Well, I'm going up to take a shower," she managed, standing up shakily.  
  
"What, you're not wet enough?"  
  
"No, but I'd like to be clean."  
  
"And I wouldn't?" "You take a shower later. Right now you can go get something for dessert."  
  
"Fine then. Are you sure you don't need help?"  
  
"OUT!!" Margaret showered, and then disappeared into her closet, attempting to find her favorite summer dress.  
  
When she reemerged, still wrapped in a towel, the door to her bedroom was open. Odd, I could have sworn I closed that.  
  
"Hello Margaret," a voice said behind her icily. "It's been a long time."  
  
She spun around, and it took all that was in her not to scream.  
  
"Steve!!"  
  
For that's who it was, underneath a matted beard and long hair. His eyes were clouded over, and his breath wreaked of old booze. From the look of him, alcohol wasn't the only thing he'd been up to.  
  
"You could at least let a girl get some clothes on," she commented as calmly as possible.  
  
"You won't be needing them." His statement startled her, and she shivered, but tried not to let it show.  
  
"What are you talking about?" He walked up to her slowly, smiling evilly as she stood her ground and met his gaze, and leaned in to whisper something to her. "I think you know."  
  
Then, before she could protest, he had yanked the towel and shoved her to the floor. He held her down and assaulted her body, bruising her skin, and hurting so much more than flesh. He was sinking down on her torso with his knees, and as he put on more body weight, a few ribs started to crack, and Margaret could literally feel the life being squeezed out of her. Her entire body was about to crumble, and as Steve started to worsen the torment, Margaret had the strange thought that maybe if he killed her before he raped her she wouldn't have to feel anything. The thought was strangely comforting.  
  
Suddenly, he stopped, or was rather lifted away by a pair of hands. Margaret couldn't see, couldn't hear anymore, her mind utterly lost in her pain, and she passed out.  
  
A few minutes later she swam back into consciousness, wondering why she hurt so much. It came back to her, and she shivered again. She was mildly aware of the sounds of wailing in the distance.  
  
She cracked an eye open and saw Hawkeye leaning over her. He had covered her with a blanket, and smiled as easily as possible. Blood dripped out of the corner of his mouth, and it looked like his eye was going to be fairly swollen and bruised by the next morning.  
  
"You'll be fine," he assured her, and reached down to lay a comforting hand on her shoulder. Suddenly, her entire body wracked with shivers as he made contact, unable to control the fear of another man. Hawkeye removed his hand quickly and nodded.  
  
"You'll be fine," he repeated. He sat next to her, longing to touch her, to reassure her some other way, but knowing he couldn't. His heart felt like it was breaking, as he tried to ignore it and listened instead to the sirens coming steadily closer. 


	5. Is It Just Me 5

PART10. ok. so it's been awhile. BUT I'M BACK!!! Be happy!! And as this story goes on, I bring you back to where we were before..* pulls out a pouch and sprinkles fairy dust on you, then sneezes and blows herself away *  
  
Hawkeye sighed an old man's sigh as he drooped into a chair by Margaret's bed. The sigh held both relief and anguish for him. She would make a full recovery most certainly, and would be in tip top shape. But Hawkeye himself couldn't really tell how this experience would affect her mind. 'We'll just have to wait and see..'  
  
"Son!" Hawkeye looked up and smiled weakly as his dad was wheeled into the hospital room by Nurse Carpenter. "How is she?"  
  
"She should pull through it fine dad. What are you doing out of bed?"  
  
Dan made a motion to Kathy, who wheeled him over to the bedside. "I'm not an invalid, son. I may be old and crippled, a living prune, if you will, but I am perfectly capable of visiting my Fibber Magee." Hawkeye smiled at the forbidden nickname to him. His smile was a relief to Dan, who had wondered if Hawkeye would be almost as much affected by this situation as Margaret would be. Margaret was strong, and would make it through anything life threw her, but sometimes Hawkeye seemed as if his cheese was teetering on the precipice of falling from the cracker into the abyss.  
  
"How long do you think until she wakes up?" Hawkeye asked, looking nervously towards her bruised face once more.  
  
"You're the doctor now. You tell me."  
  
"Anytime now, I know."  
  
As if on cue, Margaret groaned something subconsciously, and her eyes snapped open. "Hi Hawkeye."  
  
Hawkeye jumped, as if her voice were a complete shock to him. "Margaret!" He put a hand forward and laid a comforting on her shoulder, but she flinched.  
  
"Please don't touch me."  
  
"Margaret, it's ok." This voice came from Kathy, who had moved out from behind Dan's wheelchair and stood by the foot of Margaret's bed. "No one's going to get you anymore."  
  
"Where's Steve."  
  
"They took him into custody. I'm surprised they didn't take him to the hospital, he looked really bad after Hawkeye was done with him."  
  
Hawkeye smiled modestly and shook his head. "All I did was throw him down the stairs after I punched him out. Hurt my hand too," he added, lifting a beaten right hand that had been wrapped in an ace bandage.  
  
Margaret looked at the hand slowly, and smiled. "My hero."  
  
"As always, baby."  
  
"That's major to you."  
  
"After all these years. One would think a girl would give me a break. Right Dad?"  
  
Dan simply placed a gnarled finger to his lips and nodded towards Margaret, who had fallen back to sleep again. Hawkeye nodded in recognition, and sighed again. There would be a lot of soul reconstructing to do soon enough.  
  
OCTOBER.  
  
"Hawkie, when is Magpie coming home?" Lydie's voice rang out into the kitchen. Hawkeye turned around from the stove to where the child stood, smiling once again at the nicknames he was exiled from.  
  
"This afternoon," he answered. "And we want everything to be perfect. Is your bedroom clean?"  
  
Lydie nodded. "All my toys are under the bed."  
  
"Uh huh. Is mine?"  
  
Lydie giggled. "Your bedroom is never clean."  
  
Hawkeye rolled his eyes. This girl was waaayyy too much like Margaret. "You washed up?"  
  
She placed a finger to her forehead and rubbed back and forth, making squeaky noises.  
  
"You're crazy!!"  
  
Lydie laughed again and leapt up into Hawkeye's waiting arms. "Like you!"  
  
"You know who else is coming to Magpie's homecoming?"  
  
"More crazy people?"  
  
"The craziest. My friends from my old MASH unit.  
  
Lydie frowned and then wriggled out of Hawkeye's arms and grabbed his hand, before leading him to her bedroom. Once there, she pushed Hawkeye onto the bed and began rummaging through drawers, before coming across what she was looking for. Lydie pulled out an old 8x10 and brought it over to the bed, handing it to Hawkeye before she sat down herself.  
  
The picture was the very same one taken for the family reunion so many years ago. Him with his tux and cheesy cowboy hat, Beej with cheesy grin and mustache, Klinger in ferocious fur, Colonel Potter, Margaret, and the rest of the gang. Hawkeye remembered and smiled.  
  
"These people?"  
  
Hawkeye nodded and ruffled the child's hair affectionately. "Yup. These people. And more, all just as crazy." He spent the rest of the time before the first doorbell rang telling stories of the past to a rapt seven year old. By the time it had rung, Lydie seemed to realize she had almost literal relatives coming, and rushed to answer the door.  
  
"BJ?" she asked uncertainly, craning her neck to see a smiling face.  
  
"That's me!"  
  
"You're nose isn't fuzzy!!"  
  
BJ fell instantly in love with Lydie; her giggly personality, fun loving attitude, and cute as a button status. In fact, as guests continued to arrive, she remained the life of the party: bouncing from lap to lap, and creeping up behind Hawkeye, imitating his moves and mouthing his words mockingly. She disappeared very coincidently every time he turned around.  
  
After about an hour, Lydie disappeared down the hall. No one had really noticed until she came back into the room and said more quietly than she usually would, "Hawkie, Magpie's home."  
  
About a week later.  
  
"Beej, I don't know what to do." Hawkeye stretched out in the boat and cast out his fishing line, watching it absentmindedly as he spoke.  
  
"Well, you sit there, and you look out into the water, and then when the line pulls, you pull it in."  
  
"Oh, very clever."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
"Anytime."  
  
"Without a doubt."  
  
"Certainly."  
  
"Of course!"  
  
"OK, shut up."  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
"That's all right."  
  
"My God, will you stop it?? I'm getting dizzy!!"  
  
"Ok, ok. What were we going on about?"  
  
"You were about to tell me something about what you don't know how to do."  
  
"Margaret. She won't let me near her."  
  
BJ sighed. "I know. I really can't get near her either. It seems like only your dad and Colonel Potter can. I suppose she feels some sort of fatherly safety around them. Any other man that comes near her brings back the horror. She'll get over it. Don't push."  
  
"I'm not pushing. I'm just worried."  
  
"What a good husband you'd make."  
  
Hawkeye shuddered, only mostly kidding. "NO!!! Don't even go there!!"  
  
"I was joking-Joking!! Put your eyes back in your head. But why not, honestly?"  
  
"Because. Just because. It's complicated."  
  
"Awww, come on. How complicated can it be?"  
  
"More than you know. At the moment, I'm just trying to figure out how to get her to trust me again."  
  
"Give her time. She'll come around. Just give her space and love, and sooner or later you'll win it back."  
  
Hawkeye sighed more fervently. "I know. It's the waiting part that gets me."  
  
  
  
The rest of the month was excruciating. Hawkeye had to not only hold back patented wisecracks, but also to avoid touching or even looking for an extended period of time at the woman he had begun to feel for. Life's little quirks were beginning to piss him off.  
  
Halloween evening, Colonel Potter insisting on taking the children of the crowd out for trick-or-treating, along with BJ and Daniel. On Mrs. Potter's insistence, he dressed up in full polar bear suit, and masqueraded around as the North Pole Wilderbeast. Hawkeye joined then, rather reluctantly, as he had hoped to spend an evening alone with Margaret, and spend most of his time showing her how incredibly patient he was.  
  
"Hawkeye, you can't keep cooped up in that house forever. Come ON!" BJ had insisted, and Hawkeye had found himself dragged out the door.  
  
  
  
"Colonel, could you slow down? Our legs our a little outdated."  
  
"Son, mine are more outdated than yours, but," Sherman paused and chuckled before continuing, "I really can't help it. There are four imps herding me along."  
  
"Lydie! Will you slow it down?"  
  
"Yes Master!" came a gleeful reply. Potter slowed and stopped as the four children ran up to the next house, and lifted the enormous bear's head from his own.  
  
"I'm exhausted, but I don't really want to deprive them."  
  
"Of a year's worth of tooth issues? I don't blame you."  
  
"Hawkeye, how much is it going to take for me to get you to wear this in my place."  
  
Suddenly, BJ's eyes lit up and he snatched the mask from the Colonel's hand before jamming it onto Hawkeye's befuddled skull.  
  
"May I ask?"  
  
"No. You can listen now and praise me later. I believe I have just found the perfect way for you to get up close and personal with Margaret."  
  
  
  
Margaret sat alone in the living room, looking around at all the pictures taken through the years that lay about the room. They adorned mantelpieces, table and desk tops, the top of the television, the windowsills, and any other surface that presented itself.  
  
'You are a ninny. No one here is going to hurt you. You're just being a scaredy-cat, and that is something you promised yourself would never happen.'  
  
She was awoken from her self discipline by the sound of feet trudging through the door and squeals of delight as candy was distributed. Moments later, there was a ruckuss up the stairs as everyone was herded up to bed. The bear came into the room and plunked down onto the couch next to Margaret. She leaned over and rested her head on the bear's furry chest, listening to the soothing sound of breathing.  
  
"They wore ya out, didn't they?"  
  
The bear nodded.  
  
"I know the feeling. Sometimes I'm so tired at the end of the day I can hardly talk. Hawkeye's a great help though. I feel really bad about doing this to him. It's like it's not my control though. Every time he or any other man comes near me it's like some little voice inside me knows that they're going to hurt me somehow. I know it's stupid."  
  
The bear didn't answer, but lifted his hands away and pulled off the mask. Margaret looked up and then shrieked, before shooting backwards to the other end of the couch.  
  
"You!! How did you-"  
  
Hawkeye shook his head. "Don't ask questions. Just back it up. You were just right next to me and I didn't lay a harming hand on you. Correct?"  
  
Margaret nodded wordlessly and he continued. "What Steve did was wrong. It was horrible, and now you have to live with that. But blocking out the rest of the world, closing out the things that once gave you joy. that's not living. And if you keep doing what you're doing right now, then Steve really did win. Do you understand?"  
  
Margaret nodded again, but Hawkeye shook his head more violently and moved closer. She whimpered, and went to move, but he shooshed her.  
  
"Shhhh. Margaret, you can run if you want to. I won't follow you. But I'm not going to hurt you, and I'm not going to let you be tortured like this. If I'm that horrible, I'll leave. It's not against you, or meant in a cruel way, but I'm not going to torture you like this anymore. I am obviously doing more harm than good." He stood and leaned over her, before brushing his lips lightly against her forehead. He turned away abruptly though as she cowered under him, and muttered softly a "Goodbye" before going upstairs.  
  
Margaret sat, unable to untie her vocal cords as tears of silent grief rolled down her cheeks.  
  
  
  
Hawkeye collapsed into the bed the hotel had provided for him, letting out a long low grown as his bones began to yell at one another beneath his robe. It had been another excruciating day. He inflicted it on himself; running from patient to patient at the hospital, working constantly from dawn to dusk so that he wouldn't have to think about his life. That way, by the time he hit the bed at night, he fell straight to sleep.  
  
But tonight was different. Tonight, he felt truly alone. The 4077th had packed up and shipped out back to their respective homes yesterday, and this was the first day he had spent completely without anyone. The feeling was not a pleasant one.  
  
As he started to doze, there was a light tapping at the door. He wheezed a "come in", and blinked against the light that penetrated his otherwise dark room as the door opened.  
  
A petite silhouette stood in the doorway, rocking nervously back and forth. "Hawkeye?" she called softly into the room.  
  
Hawkeye shot upright and flicked on the bedside lamp. "Margaret!"  
  
She walked slowly into the room, and advanced to the foot of the bed. "Hi stranger."  
  
"Hi." His tone was not cold, but mildly cool, and very cautious. She winced as he said the word, wondering if she was the one that had turned him timid.  
  
"I just came by to see how. you were doing."  
  
"I'm all right. How are you?"  
  
God. This small talk was going to kill them both. "I'm all right too."  
  
There was another pause, before Hawkeye continued. "How's Lydie?"  
  
"Fine. She misses you though."  
  
"Understandable. I'm a great guy." His joke made her smile slightly, thinking that maybe she hadn't permanently destroyed the friendship they had worked so hard to maintain.  
  
"She asked me to give you this." Margaret held out a small ragged stuffed animal, immediately recognized as Bunny Moo. Lydie would never go anywhere without him, and Hawkeye was touched that she would give up such treasured possession for his sake.  
  
Margaret held the doll in midair hesitantly, not sure how she was to get it to him.  
  
"Margaret, I'm not going to hurt you."  
  
"I know," she replied, but her answer was penetrated by sobbing. She sat down on the edge of the bed and buried her face in her hands, crying completely now. Hawkeye stared at her from the top of the bed, open mouthed, unsure of what to do. He couldn't just sit there and let her cry, but he couldn't hold her and let her cry in his arms either.  
  
"Margaret, I won't come after you. If you want me, I'm here. But I need you to come to me, so that I know you can believe that I won't hurt you. Do you understand?"  
  
She nodded into her hands, and looked up after one more wrenching sob. "I'm scared."  
  
"I'm here."  
  
"Do you swear."  
  
"I will never hurt you. I swear it on my life and death, that while you're in my arms I will make sure you are safe."  
  
She nodded, and shifted up to him slowly, still wary of his open arms. But once she had curled herself into a little ball into them, and they had wrapped themselves around her, she felt safe again, and started crying all over. Hawkeye shifted his weight and pulled her into his arms, onto his lap, cradling her as he would a child. She lay her head on his chest, and Hawkeye put his chin on her hair, breathing in her scent deeply as she hiccupped out her frustrations. And then, her breathing changed, and she was no longer tense against him.  
  
Hawkeye smiled gently and thought to himself dreamily as he too nodded off of how he must be doing something right, if she had come back to him again.  
  
TBC my darlings, TBC. I leave you with that to ponder, and bid you hasta luego. I'll be back, never you fear. This story shalt not end. 


	6. Is It just me 6

Margaret woke up warm and comforted the next morning, and basked in the foreign feeling for awhile, before she cracked an eye open. The bed was empty, but still had the indents from Hawkeye's lean frame. She rolled over with a groggy groan and buried her head deep into the pillow, breathing in his smell deeply. Unwilling to wake up completely yet, she simply hugged the pillow more closely to herself and dozed on and off.  
  
The door opened a few minutes later, and Hawkeye walked into the room as quietly as possible, not sure if she was awake or asleep. He set down the coffee he had run out to get and tiptoed over to the bed, leaning over to see if she was awake.  
  
"Hawkeye, stop hovering."  
  
He jumped slightly, and then breathed a sigh of relief. "You seem better this morning."  
  
"MMmmmmm. I feel better. Thank you Hawkeye."  
  
"Anytime. Listen, I know that we're not going to fix everything in one morning, but could I at least try to start?"  
  
Margaret looked at him thoughtfully. "What would that involve?"  
  
"Would a tiny kiss be too much to ask?"  
  
"How tiny?"  
  
"Miniscule. Barely even a kiss, if you ask me."  
  
Margaret took a deep breath. "Hawkeye."  
  
Hawkeye knelt down by the edge of the bed and cupped Margaret's chin in his hand.  
  
"What do I need to do to win you back?"  
  
"You've always had me."  
  
Hawkeye furrowed his brow and looked at her. "What do you mean?"  
  
"I mean I'm not going to leave you. Or Lydie. You're stuck with me. I just don't know if I can handle intimacy. Not now."  
  
Hawkeye nodded. "I know. Will you at least let me try to prove to you I am not like any other man?"  
  
"You're definitely not like any other man."  
  
"Should I be flattered or insulted?"  
  
"Hmmm. A little bit of both."  
  
"OK. I'm game. There's coffee on the table, and whatever else you need just grab. I have to go to work."  
  
"You're leaving?"  
  
"Duty calls, my dear. But I'll be back this evening."  
  
"Here, you mean."  
  
Hawkeye couldn't quite place the sound in her voice. "That's up to you Margaret."  
  
She paused. "I'd like you to come home."  
  
He nodded, and smiled. "You got it."  
  
Some months later.  
  
"Hawkie!"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"I'm hungry!!"  
  
"I know honey, so am I. Magpie's cooking though, and that's worth the wait."  
  
"All right, stop the belly aching! I'm coming with the food!"  
  
Lydie and Hawkeye let the spoons that had been dangling from their noses drop into outstretched palms, and placed them down as Margaret came through the door.  
  
"Yum yum!"  
  
"Thank you Hawkeye."  
  
"Yum YUM!"  
  
"Thank you Lydie. Now it's proven that Hawkeye has an eight year old's intellect."  
  
"Hey!! I thought you were on my side young lady!"  
  
Lydie giggled and made a motion of zipping her lips.  
  
"Oh, I see."  
  
Margaret smiled as she set down the dish she had toted into the room, and took a seat next to Lydie, across from Hawkeye.  
  
"Are you going to see Grandpa tonight?" Hawkeye asked through a mouthful of pasta.  
  
"Yea. We're gonna catch fireflies!"  
  
"Sounds like fun. Do you know what Magpie's intentions are for this evening?"  
  
Lydie put her hand to her forehead and sighed dramatically. "The same thing she does every night Hawkie. She's gonna read a book in her room, and take a shower, then go to bed after she plays with me."  
  
"But you're not going to be here, remember?"  
  
Lydie thought for a moment. "Then she can play with you."  
  
Margaret's eyes shifted up from her plate and gazed into Hawkeye's face, whose eyes were twinkling mischievously. She heard him snort mildly, before answering a "That can be arranged." A moment later he gave a strangled yelp as she kicked him under the table.  
  
Later that night.  
  
"Room service!"  
  
"Hawkeye, go away. I'm reading."  
  
"You're always reading. Come on, I bear fresh made iced tea."  
  
"I'm not thirsty."  
  
The door pushed open, and Hawkeye strode in with a pitcher of iced tea and glasses on a tray. "Then how about we talk?"  
  
Margaret sighed and shut "Sonnets of the Portuguese," and then looked up expectantly at Hawkeye. "Well?"  
  
Hawkeye sat down and placed the tray on the bedstand. "You've been avoiding me."  
  
"I most certainly have not. I talk to you everyday."  
  
"Yes. When you get home from work, exhausted, like I am, and then we talk about our day for a few minutes before you get Lydie and I collapse. That's really not a relationship. Not that I'm an expert."  
  
"You can say that again," Margaret replied, but smiled slightly.  
  
"Hmmm. Moving on."  
  
They sat in awkward silence for a moment, before Margaret cleared her throat and spoke. "I suppose you're right. I'm just not ready to have that kind of a relationship yet."  
  
"I can understand that. I'm not saying we'd make husband and wife, but every once in a while it's nice to dream. Besides, tonight's our anniversary." He leaned in and kissed her forehead gently. Margaret shivered to herself. Hawkeye brought his face down to her and looked deep into her eyes.  
  
"Was that a good shiver or a bad shiver?"  
  
"I- - I don't know."  
  
"Maybe we should try again?"  
  
"I think I could handle that."  
  
He brought his head up slowly and kissed her nose with the same soft technique. His eyes danced as he looked into her eyes again.  
  
"I don't know about you, but I'm definitely getting some positive vibes here, Magee."  
  
"You're not supposed to call me that."  
  
"Sorry. I was overcome by a wave of trustworthy -ness."  
  
"Well, I think I was getting some fairly good vibes too."  
  
"Good." Hawkeye leaned into her and brushed his lips softly against hers. He leaned in further, and slipped off the floor in the process. To keep himself from falling off the bed, he placed a hand over on Margaret's other side.  
  
"Hawkeye."  
  
He lifted himself away and looked at her. "It's all right. I promise."  
  
"But I'm. not ready. right now."  
  
He nodded, and crawled to the other side of the bed, next to her, close, but not touching. He made no comment, but sighed only slightly as he folded his arms over himself.  
  
She thought and sifted through memories for almost an hour, listening to his breath as it changed to deep rhythmic sounds, his eyes closed and his face relaxed. 'He's so peaceful when he's asleep,' she thought to herself. As she continued to gaze at his sleeping form, she added mischievously, 'It's a pity he's such a monster when he's awake.' She smiled, and continued to smile as she turned to face him. The smile faded as she leaned forwards, and she kissed Hawkeye, smiling slightly as he woke up to her lips on his.  
  
"Good vibes?" he mumbled on her upper lip, cracking an eye open.  
  
"Just shut up and kiss me."  
  
"Yes ma'am," he answered dreamily, and closed his eyes again, feeling her body snugly fit against his.  
  
10 years later.  
  
"Oh family!!" Lydie called, walking into the house.  
  
"In the kitchen!!" came a unionized response. Lydie through down her book bag and walked through the door to the kitchen, almost immediately disappearing into the refrigerator.  
  
"We have no food in here, do we?"  
  
"Well, no," Hawkeye countered, looking up from the newspaper. "Unless you want apples, oranges, pizzas, bagels, virtually every kind of snack food available to mankind, homemade cookies, the cake I picked up before, and veggies and dip, the place is practically barren."  
  
"Ha ha ha. Point taken Hawkeye." Lydie emerged with an apple clenched between her teeth and a can of Diet in her hand.  
  
"You call that food?"  
  
"Oh, hush. I'll be eating real food tonight. We're having the gang over. You do remember, right Magee??"  
  
"Yes, I remember. You didn't need to waste your puppy dog eyes on me. Save it for Hawkeye, he can't say no."  
  
" I most certainly can!!" came the retort from behind the newspaper. The two ladies looked at each other and giggled. "I heard that!"  
  
"I'm sure you did," Lydie responded. "Are you hanging around tonight Margaret?? We're going to have a real girl's night in. You know you want to."  
  
"All right, all right, I'll hang around for a little while."  
  
"Good." Lydie turned and motioned to Hawkeye. "You think we could shang-hi him?? He'd look so cute in a mud mask."  
  
This grabbed Hawkeye's attention. He shook the newspaper slightly so that half of it fell over and looked up at Lydie. "I think not, madam. I only embarrass myself like that on the loss of a bet. The last time I did something that bad was all the way back in Korea. And you can thank Uncle BJ for that one."  
  
"Ohhhh, maybe I'll call him later and get all the gory details. In fact, you should be calling him soon anyway, along with the rest of the macadamia ranch nutters. It's about that time again. And it's your turn to host the reunion this year."  
  
"Oiy! Don't remind me! I'm still drunk off last year's bash! Who threw that?"  
  
"If my mind serves me correctly, it was a combined effort between Uncle BJ and Uncle Max. And Gramp Sherm brought the spirits from that one, so I can honestly believe that you're still tipsy."  
  
"Well, you're right about that. Even in his old age, the man knows the quality of a good belt."  
  
Lydie smiled and nodded. "Oh yeah. I've seen you two after an evening of poker with him. I had to drive you back to the hotel after that evening."  
  
"I would like to remind you that you did not HAVE to drive us home."  
  
"You're right. I just wasn't very suicidal that day."  
  
"Mmmhhhmmm. All right, all right, point taken. But at least this year you don't have to worry."  
  
"WHAT?!?! You think I'm safe this year? You two in the same house with alcohol making up most of your veins? There's no telling what you'll do!"  
  
Hawkeye and Margaret glanced at each other and grinned guiltily, knowing that it was fully true. "We'll be good."  
  
"I'd like that in writing."  
  
"Phooey on you," Margaret replied, and stood up to put the dishes into the sink. "I'll call everyone later today. Expect the nuthouse some time next week."  
  
"Fair enough," Lydie replied, and threw on her windbreaker. "I'm going out for a few hours with Jazzy, we'll be back later on with all the fixings for a bash."  
  
"Yes ma'am. Now I know how it feels to be ordered around."  
  
Hawkeye's eyes lit up. "Ah ha! Now maybe you'll remember what that feels like next time you get all bossy on me."  
  
"No, I don't think so."  
  
That night.  
  
"Hawkeye, did you call everyone up?"  
  
"Yes I did! Everyone's going to be here next Wednesday, with bells on."  
  
"Skip the bells. And who's bringing the booze?"  
  
"BJ. I'm supplying the poker chips, and Lydie is taking care of the catering."  
  
"Taking care of it how?"  
  
"The gang is getting together on Tuesday to bake."  
  
The gang, as they were referred to, were Lydie's bosom buddies. They included Jazzy, which was short for Jasmine, a tropical looking fiery spirited girl with no fears and a great sense of humor. She was so much like Lydie that it was scary. Then there was Myra, a soft, quiet girl whose spunk seemed to be brought out only under Lydie's influence. The gang's extended family included Josh, Lydie's long time boyfriend, and Myra's sweetheart Sam. Between the five of them, they had begun the "Firebirds," a musical group with Lydie and Jazzy in lead, Josh on drums and guitar, and Sam on guitar and technical "stuff" as it had been so christened. Myra, for all Lydie had tried, would never do anything more than backup and guitar. But she wrote the greatest songs.  
  
"Where's Lydie now??"  
  
"She's up in her room, writing her songs and rehearsing Myra's skits of the week. Why?"  
  
"She promised to help me with clean up my bedroom this week."  
  
"On her summer vacation? What's the catch?"  
  
"Well, I have a feeling that once she sees the stuff in my closet it's going to slowly migrate to hers."  
  
"Ah ha."  
  
"Lydie?"  
  
"Entrez vous," came the answer from behind the door.  
  
Margaret walked into a room that wreaked of Lydie. This room, like so many others in this house, had been adorned everywhere with pictures of the past. One wall had an oversized bulliten board with various pieces of notebook paper, napkins. anything that the gang had to write on when inspiration struck. Lydie was currently on the bed, examining a particular sheet and humming.  
  
"Lydie?"  
  
"We've established that, yes."  
  
"I'm going to clean my room. you promised to help, remember?"  
  
Lydie looked up, aghast. "Me? Clean? Magpie, you know that whenever I clean something goes wrong. The vacuum would attack me!"  
  
Margaret laughed, realizing she was kidding. "I'll take care of the vacuum."  
  
"The dust bunnies would eat me alive."  
  
"I'll give you a feather duster. You can beat them down."  
  
"I'd die of dust inhalation!" Lydie exclaimed, smiling and getting up from the bed.  
  
"I'll give you a mask. Come on!"  
  
Lydie chuckled and got up, following Margaret into her room.  
  
A few minutes later.  
  
"I don't even want to know what this is about," Lydie called from within the closet's depths.  
  
"What?"  
  
"This." Lydie emerged from the closet holding Margaret's ancient whip by the very edge of the strand, with a look of utmost disgust plastered onto her face.  
  
Margaret collapsed onto the bed, in a fit of insane laughter. Twenty minutes later, Lydie had calmed her down to the point of reasonable discussion.  
  
"I've had that thing for years!" Margaret managed, wiping a tear from her eye. "Was from my first husband."  
  
"Oooohh! That thing of a thing?"  
  
"Yep. That scum pig cheating piece of-"  
  
"Got the idea. But this gives me an idea."  
  
Lydie disappeared into the closet for a moment, before jumping back wearing an old Army trench coat and Hawkeye's cowboy hat, belting out the Indiana Jones theme as she cracked with whip.  
  
A few minutes later, Hawkeye walked in to see what all the ruckuss was, only to be confronted with two giggling masses lying on the bed. "And they say I'm nuts." he muttered as he leaned against the door frame rather bemusedly..  
  
And we'll be back after this commercial break.... 


	7. Finale the end!

"Call."  
  
"I'm in for twenty."  
  
Hawkeye looked up from his cards. "My dear, it is not wise to beat the pants off someone who feeds and clothes you."  
  
The table of old timers chuckled, but Lydie looked up with a surprised expression on her face. "Are you serious? I clothe myself, Hawkie. And with my winnings tonight, I could feed a whole third world country."  
  
"You won't be living here."  
  
"Fine." Lydie turned her attention to a graying older man who had long since abandoned his chips. "BJ, I'm coming to live with you. Hawkie doesn't love me anymore."  
  
BJ laughed and nodded. "All right. You have to wash the windows though."  
  
"Wait a minute. you aren't leaving until I'm old and wrinkled," Hawkeye admonished, tossing in another chip. "I need someone to take care of me."  
  
"What if I got someone else to take care of you?"  
  
"Someone like whom?"  
  
Lydie gestured towards Margaret. "You two are going to stick around each other till death do you part. You've seen each other through sickness and health and everything in between. You love, honor, and obey-ok, so you got two out of three. And you make each other laugh, or kick each other's asses, whichever you need more at the time." With that, she paused and looked over at Father Mulcahy. "Sorry about that last part."  
  
The Padre smiled over his coffee mug. "Actually, that's pretty good. I'd like to use that sometime."  
  
"Be my guest." Lydie turned back to Hawkeye and leaned forward. "All right, I'll make you a deal. If you win this hand, I'll stay here forever."  
  
"If I lose it?"  
  
"You marry Margaret so I can get the hell out of here. I know you're going to anyway, so I decided to speed up the process."  
  
Margaret sputtered into her drink. "How did you know about that?"  
  
Lydie smiled angelically and hummed the tune to Indiana Jones. "Told you something bad would happen. I found the note. If you lose this hand, you carry out that sentence 15 years early."  
  
Hawkeye looked over to Margaret for an answer. "What do you say?"  
  
"I say. what the hell."  
  
Hawkeye smiled and nodded. "All right whipper snapper, you've got yourself a bet."  
  
"What did you have?"  
  
Hawkeye laid out a full house, aces over queens, and smiled. "So, do I have a wife or a servant?"  
  
Lydie continued to look at the cards in her hands and then, to the surprise of all present, began to hum the Wedding March as she laid out a straight.  
  
"Bah buh buh duh."  
  
"Lydie. did you get everything?"  
  
"Hawkie, if I pack one more thing into these blasted suitcases they're going to pop."  
  
From down the hall, Margaret called, "Benjamin Pierce stop nagging the girl!"  
  
Hawkeye groaned and rolled his eyes. "I mean is there room enough for me. I don't want to get stuck here with that ornery woman!"  
  
Lydie laughed and shook her head. "Take her to the beach at sunset and mellow her out. Boy, who would have ever thought you two would end up spending a lifetime together? I wonder what you'll be like when you get to be old married people living in some old bed and getting all cuddly cozy."  
  
~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~**~~**~~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~  
  
Sands of time Slip through the glass Memories of life gone past Whispers of the things we've done Promises of things to come.  
  
Many years later, when Lydia was already married with a child of her own and another on the way coming, her prophesy of two aged people using each other as comforters came true.  
  
A cold winter's day brought multiple blankets into the bedroom that held so many memories for the two. very few of them the kind that most couples have on their marriage bed. Instead, the room was a three dimensional scrapbook. a token of how much it had taken for them to get to where they were.  
  
"Hawkeye?"  
  
"MMMMmmmmm."  
  
"Do you think we'll be like this forever?"  
  
"Margaret, we'll be like this until beyond forever. Now hush, I'm tired."  
  
Margaret lifted her head from Hawkeye's chest. "You're always tired. Are you sure you're all right?"  
  
"I'm fine Nurse Doctor, just tired." he didn't finish his thought, but closed his eyes and leaned back onto his pillow, taking a deep breath.  
  
Margaret didn't bother to wake him; he had been so damned exhausted from just being himself lately. she wondered if something was wrong. Of course, in all his male pride, he refused to see a doctor and claimed that it was just from putting up with her. So instead, she just laid her head back onto his chest and let herself drift off with him...  
  
She was in a darkened room, sitting in a chair and waiting for her eyes to adjust to the night. When they didn't, she stood, and walked across the room, thankful that her aching joints had ceased their torment to her for the moment.  
  
"Hawkeye?"  
  
There was no answer. There was nothing. There was just the dank, darkness that felt like it was slowly becoming thicker to suffocate her. She wondered icily for a moment if her husband's claustrophobic notions had rubbed off on her.  
  
"Hawkeye?" she called again, reaching out a hand into nothingness. She called out one more time and her voice cracked as she started to get increasingly frightened. then there was a deep, rumbling voice.  
  
"Right here baby."  
  
"Hawkeye?"  
  
"Yes baby."  
  
"It's dark here. Where are we?"  
  
"I don't know baby. I really don't know. I'm still figuring it out."  
  
She felt a warm presence wrap itself around her, and smelled the familiar spicy cologne that had come to signify Hawkeye. Breathing deeply she closed her eyes and leaned into that presence, then felt as if her surroundings had become different. She opened her eyes again and gasped, because the dark room they had been in had dissolved into a brightly lit beachside. And when she looked up at Hawkeye, he had changed from the aged man she had fallen asleep on. He was younger; his hair transformed to raven black again, eyes ever untouched, with a smooth complexion and his lean frame was supported by two entirely un-arthritic legs.  
  
Margaret shook her head as if to clear it, then opened her mouth to ask a question. "What the hell.?"  
  
She never got the chance to finish asking her question, because Hawkeye placed one long finger to her lips. "Not hell, midear. actually, rather the opposite. Now turn around and look at what else has changed."  
  
Margaret obeyed and turned, laughing lightly with a fair amount of shock as she stood on a familiar beach. The entire crew of ex-Mashers, all of which had passed on with their spouses long ago, stood under an enormous sign that was exactly like the one of the original reunion, with one more detail. "Mash, 4077, best care anywhere. (Here We go again) And Again. and again.."  
  
The sands of time On the shores of love Waves of dreams lost long ago Return to you With each ebb and flow  
  
They walked together along their beach, created from their memories, in a world beyond what any person can truly comprehend, each wondering what the other was thinking of now.  
  
"Mi amore."  
  
Margaret snapped out of her thoughts and smiled up. "Since when am I your love?"  
  
"Since you danced with me."  
  
Margaret shaded her eyes against the sun and looked up at a 28 year old Hawkeye, frozen in time for all eternity. "We never danced."  
  
"Then maybe we should."  
  
He took her in his arms and let gentle wavelets of music drift to them from somewhere within his own mind, and rocked her gently back and forth on the edge of the ocean.  
  
"You know, you really are a better dancer than I gave you credit for."  
  
"I'm a better lotsa things than you gave me credit for."  
  
Margaret looked up. "Like what?"  
  
"Should I show you?"  
  
"You know, it has always been a fantasy of mine."  
  
Hawkeye pulled her away and looked down, perplexed. "What has?"  
  
"To make love to someone on a beach."  
  
He chuckled. "Actually, that wasn't what I was talking about, but since you mentioned it."  
  
With another laugh, he hoisted her up over his shoulders and dropped her onto the sand, with a devilish grin and a wink. "You should know better by now."  
  
"I guess I'll just never learn," she sighed, and leaned back, suddenly very aware of a pair of incessant lips traveling along her jawline. She went along with him for a minute, then pulled back suddenly with a smile on her face that matched his.  
  
"How long are you going to love me?"  
  
Hawkeye chuckled bemusedly and sat up, looking at her as if she were certifiably insane. "Forever."  
  
"At least."  
  
"Of course. It's settled. We'll be together until at least." He sighed and looked up with puppy dog eyes. "Can I continue now or are you going to spoil the moment completely?"  
  
"Well, I suppose I could, but playing hard to get is just so much more fun," she answered lightly, glancing up.  
  
"I can assure you that it IS NOT!" he answered defensively, frowning.  
  
She opened her mouth to lay another ringer on him, but he realized that and rolled over on top of her again with a playful growl and pulled her closer, burying them deeper into the sand as they took their first step towards an eternity together.  
  
Author's Notes: Ahh, the ramblances at the end of any story. Well, ladies and gentlemen, children of all ages, therein lies the end. I know that this story has taken a bunch of twists and turns in it's meandering course towards the finish line. And I'm sure that there's much room for improvement. But consider this my baby, my original starter ficcie. I started this a long time ago, with a lot of things in mind for this story. Some of them happened. Some of them didn't. But a lot happened with me too, so I felt it only right to finish off the story with the ending I had in mind since the beginning, and that's what I attempted to do.  
  
You'll notice that there seem to be a lot of open ends in this story. Take this as writer's prerogative, and to the fact that there's a lot of creativity floating through my head that never quite made it down to paper.  
  
I want to take the time to thank all my loyal readers (whoever you may be) that gave me all the support to continue this thing as it went through it's courses. So, as this draws to a close, as does my little rant of epilogue, I want to say that this has been one of the most liberating experiences of my life. It opened a lot of doors for me. You guys are the first ones who ever got to read my work. AHH! This is so weird for me!! The end of an era! All right, here's my final words.  
  
Love you all until at least, Shaboom be praised, keep your chin up, neva say neva, Peace on earth, goodbye, farewell, amen, and don't doubt the power of your own words. We've only just begun!! Crysta, signing off. 


End file.
